


The Ashes After

by LettersToHeartbreak



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games), Middle-earth: Shadow of War (Video Games), The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Blame the Ring, Body Dysphoria, Eventual Smut, Hang in there Talion!, I promise its a good ending, M/M, More like help gets him, Panic Attacks, Poor Celebrimbor, Poor Talion, Possessive to Obsessive, Shelob is Good, Souls and Soul Songs, Talion gets help, Talion is going to fuck shit up, Torture, Touch-Starved, Wow thats getting dark, temporary insanity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-04-28 10:50:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14447730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettersToHeartbreak/pseuds/LettersToHeartbreak
Summary: “What was that Wraith,” Talion muttered “to hurt me more than when Ioreth and Dirhael were slaughtered in front of me?!” how was the knowledge of Celebrimbor’s loss capable of paralyzing him when his family only propelled him into revenge? Had the Wraith sunk so deeply into Talion’s utter being that he could not stand the absence of him? He had to, Talion thought, as he chuckled humorlessly, for he felt like a shell of the man he’d once been.(Chapters posted as they are completed)





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> [DIALOGUE KEY]
> 
> “Normal Speech”
> 
> [Black Speech]
> 
> “ **Sauron **”****
> 
> (‘Isildur’s Ring’)
> 
> (‘The New Ring’)
> 
> “Sindarin”

In his hand, the Palantír grew hot. Intensely, the blistering heat burned Talion’s hand just as a flash of light- blinding enough to be painful, exploded from the core. Talion ducked away, shielding his eyes away from the searing light in an attempt to spare his vision. Under breath, he hissed as his eyes clenched.

Despite his efforts, his eyes were still filled with the unforgiving light until his eyes burned from it. That, as well as the pain of his singed hand which still held the Palantír, felt numb compared to the pain inside Talion’s breast.

The knowledge was only just settling. The Wraith was gone.

Celebrimbor was gone. In battle with Sauron, they had fought, and the Dark Lord prevailed. Together as one, now and forever until Sauron’s unlikely demise.

Talion peered into the orb again, as if will alone would create a new image, a new truth. Perhaps if he hoped enough, a miraculous turn of events in a place too far away from his intervention even if not his sight would occur. The artifact, cooling already in hand, only showed one image.  An eye, fiery and slit like a drake’s. The pupil skittered in every direction, never in one place, even as the color flashed. Orange one second, only to be overtaken by blue, then back again. It was as if Talion held a true eye now, alive and active. For all that the new state of it now, to Talion the stone was little more than an oversized polished trinket. The stone would not show him what he wanted.

Talion replaced the Palantír on its pedestal, and walked away with static growing in his ears.

Exiting the castle, Talion paused on the steps as the large door swung closed behind him in an eerie and final thud that echoed oddly in the green tinged air. Talion breathed, and tilted his head to the sky, eyes searching for the stars, only to close when there were none to be found. The enchantment light surrounding Minas Morgul had drowned out the night sky. On the air, Talion could taste blood and evil on the air, fresh and old.

Swaying in the still air, surrounded by silence inside and out, reality came to him. In a wake of horror, Talion choked on nothing.

“It is done,” Talion gasped, and opened his eyes “Celebrimbor is no more.” he told the empty air. In his body, the vacant spaces rung, suddenly empty after so long.

Talion knew the silence should feel natural to him. No body was designed to house two souls as his had been forced to do. No soul was meant to become entangled with another until every vibration could be translated as easily as emotion on face. Yet it only scared him.

Never had he’d ever been so alone since the Black Gate. His body was quiet, empty of another’s presence, of a song that only souls produced in an undeniable sign of existence. This- this sensation felt unnatural. In his mind, Talion likened it to the feelings he had heard many old soldier’s complain of. The ones who had lost an arm or leg in battle. The sensation that something was missing, yet you could feel it still as well and presently as any limbs that remained. A phantom limb, incurable and untreatable. Or in alternate cases, a phantom pain- to feel from something that existed no longer.

Except this was so much worse. Even in his mind, Talion could not hear false notes of melody, the ghostly instruments of Soul Song. Celebrimbor was gone, and it could not be denied. This was pain. This was _abandonment_.

He hadn’t given himself time to think, Talion acknowledged, or to process what had happened in the mad rush of  a day that had occurred. He hadn’t wanted to. Yet there was nothing left to be done. Celebrimbor and Eltariel had gone to fight Sauron, they had lost. Talion had survived the Bridge and reclaimed Minas Morgul. There were no more Nazgúl to fight, no more fortresses to take. The Bright Lord army had been amassed and had been successful in pushing back the Dark Lord’s own. There was nothing left to do. Nothing left for Talion to focus on and escape time. Now It came for him, creeping all around him like black smoke until he suffocated on it.

The murmuring of the ring on his finger made it all the worse to Talion. The dark mutterings malicious and poisonous. It had been doing so since the moment he had put it on. Already despair clawed at his consciousness.

Celebrimbor had betrayed him. Over a disagreement, the Wraith had turned against him. Pawning away the Ranger as if Talion had meant nothing; as if all worth had been lost the second Talion did not fall into line.

‘ _This is not the end I have fought for!’_

Eru, what a fool he’d was. To think that he would not be alone in trying to achieve a fragile peace in the bloody war. The price of that now was Talion’s solitary station. How he wished for Idril’s perseverance, or her heart.

The strength in Talion’s legs fled, and it took great effort to not go tumbling forward off the stairs like a swooning maiden. He fell back, ungraceful and fumbling as he half tripped and half sat on the steps he stood on. His legs kicked out, knocking one heel painfully against stone in full extension while the other jarred as it landed flat on one step down. Talion leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. Unbidden, Talion could feel his shoulders begin to shake, even as the serpent’s hiss of Isildur’s Ring remained constant in its lies.

The testing tendrils of darkness that slipped from the tainted thing that now kept Talion pulled away from eternal rest twisted thoughts into light until they screamed.

Left to die, they squalled. Alone and betrayed, they scratched. Considered lesser then slaves or dirt, they said. They hurt, every single one that the Ring pulled into existence hurt. Talion could not think of anything but them.

It all inspired an agony in his breast.

By the Valar, more than anything and as poisoned as they were, those thoughts hurt. Celebrimbor’s betrayal was like no other because Talion had thought that perhaps they were friends. They had suffered together, battled impossible and trying odds together. They had died countless gruesome deaths until they each grew weary of it and the darkness of their existence called for a coward’s end. Times between them had been shared, in the rare and quiet spaces of their days; memories, thoughts, wishes and ambitions- though there were hardy anymore of those. Their undeaths had tied them together, bonds of which eradicated boundaries completely between them. In one body they shared, cramped and uncomfortable until they had adjusted. It had been strange at first, to feel Celebrimbor’s essence and hear his Song even when the projection of him spoke to Talion face to face.

Talion had thought that intimacy would have created an understanding, a fundamental agreement or at least the inclination of consideration. It had not, and that is what caused Celebrimbor’s betrayal- (‘ _Rejection!’)_ Isildur’s Ring hissed- to strangle Talion. It was as if a ghostly fist had reached through his ribcage, gripping his heart so tightly the organ struggled, and slowly twisted.

Talion wanted to be angry (‘ _He left you to die!’_ ). He wanted to be furious actually, under the mind numbing shock that held his tongue when Eltariel had taken the Ring. Except Celebrimbor was gone, forcefully taken in by the Dark Lord to be one with his enemy. How, in what good conscience Talion had left, be angry for the betrayal when Celebrimbor suffered such a fate? Caught in eternal conflict, never to escape?

Talion’s hands slid up his face until the heels of his palms rested in the dips of his eyes, digging in with pressure until colors burst behind his clenched lids. He breathed a little harder, as his shaking worsened. “Eru, what have we done to be forsaken by you?” Talion whispered to nothing, like a prayer of a deadman; wasn’t that what he was?

(‘ _Forgotten, left behind. None shall come for you, Talion of the Black Gate!’)_ Isildur’s Ring sang in malice.

“What in our lives have we done to deserve these fates!”

(‘ _Nothing, Talion, nothing! Only He will give you peace. Go to Him, serve Him!’)_

Talion ignored the taunts. No, Talion was sickened by the suggestion- he would not serve the one who had caused such suffering! That had caused his current suffering! By Celebrimbor’s leave a gaping wound had been opened in Talion’s essence. There was an absence of Song in his head, the vibrating rumbling of waves breaking on shore and the musical chimes of stars shining through the night sky- it was a constant melody that had always been there; reliable and comforting. It had spoke to Talion in ways Celebrimbor’s voice had not. Now it was gone. It was an undeniable sign that Talion could not ignore. He was alone. There was no Soul Song, and there was no constant mutterings, dark humored quips nor was there silver-tongued words to turn Talion’s attentions.

Talion soundlessly gasped. Nothing, there was _nothing_ . The space where the Wraith had taken, hard won and forcefully made had grown used to the pressure, and equally so had Talion’s soul- now there was only an unsettling void! The silence and that space- like an infected wound, the utter wrongness festered under the Ranger’s skin. Talion felt sundered. His being torn in half to be stretched across the plains of Mordor (‘ _It is, it is! He did this to you!’)_ The Ring crowed, latching on the thought to poison.

“What was that Wraith,” Talion muttered “to hurt me more than when Ioreth and Dirhael were slaughtered in front of me?!” how was the knowledge of Celebrimbor’s loss capable of paralyzing him when his family only propelled him into revenge? Had the Wraith sunk so deeply into Talion’s utter being that he could not stand the absence of him? He had to, Talion thought, as he chuckled humorlessly, for he felt like a shell of the man he’d once been. The deaths of his wife and son had not been so painful as to do this to him. How could he feel like this? They were his _family_ , precious and all that he had loved- he was unworthy of them if he could not honor them with even proportional sorrows. Celebrimbor should not have inspired such agony as to overcome his family. He did.

(‘ _Changed you! Celebrimbor changed you!’)_ Isildur’s Ring vibrated, the sentient energy pulling at his hurts until they bled more deeply (‘ _He did not allow you to grieve them as they deserved! He pushed you to chase revenge the minute you could stand!’_ ).

“He changed me..” Talion echoed, hollow and tired, ignoring the pleased quiver of the Ring “On the Black Gate he had changed me to be this- I cannot even accept death. His drive of revenge has _infected_ me.” (‘ _Yes! Yes!’_ ).

Talion hissed in pain as the Ring on his finger- a condensed nightmare of his choosing grew energized. ( _‘He had changed you! He had ruined you, Celebrimbor betrayed you!’)_ it chanted (‘ _He did not recognize your value- did not value you, Talion! He left you to die for that elven woman!’_ )

In vain, Talion clasped his hands over his ears. It did nothing to dampen his burden. The Ring only grew louder.

(‘ _Go to Him, Talion! The Dark Lord will give you peace under his service. Join the Nine, realize your purpose!’_ )

“I will not!”

(' _You will, you will you will! Only He can ease your pain, it was He who took away the source!’)_

“Shut up!” Talion wrenched his hands away, intending in full to pull the cursed ring off his finger to throw it and it’s venomous words far away from him. He only just stopped himself before he did it, stilled with the knowledge that if he did, then he would die; bled out on the stairs of Minas Morgul.

With the Ring still humming in it’s uncanny joy in the back of his mind, Talion deflated as he sighed. He closed his eyes as he hung his head, allowing his hands to fall between his knees.

How far had he fallen. Once he had been a respected Captain of the Black Gate, now he was little more than a cowardly wretch. Three times death sought him out, and three times was death denied. Not even now, when it would be so easy, could Talion bring himself to do the action that would seal his fate.

(‘ _You cannot accept death, Talion. So much to do! Too much to do!’_ )

It seemed a spirit looked over the Ranger, for how unusually well life hung onto him. The Black Hand at the Gate, Shelob and now Celebrimbor. The Black Hand had succeeded, however Talion became host to Celebrimbor. Shelob had failed, though she did not mean to kill him, so perhaps she succeeded. Then Celebrimbor, the Wraith had succeeded. Talion was sure he had died, only to be revived by the power of will alone or maybe Shelob. He had been dry of blood, and yet still he grasped at undeath with unholy stubbornness, chaining himself yet again to an unnatural existence of deathlessness. Did Talion know nothing but his stubborn refusals of death? Of Morgoth driven desperation did he choose to be so careless in how he did it?

The very weight of his decisions weighed heavy on his hand and mind. Refined evil, created by Annatar and Celebrimbor under the guise of lies now wrapped around his finger more prettily than a jeweled serpent. He could feel how the smoky presence of it reached into his mind. Memories darkened, his thoughts soured. One by one all that made Talion was beginning to fall it’s under influence.

Stubbornly, Talion pushed away that smoke, wincing as the Ring lashed back in displeasure though it thankfully receded. “I was a fool…” Talion admitted, grimacing at the rapidly developing migraine cause by the Ring’s retaliation. A reward for his resistance and a price for it’s standstill. “I am a coward…” ( _‘Go to Him! Find power in Him! Serve Him!’_ ) Isildur’s Ring chanted.

Tears slipped down his face unbidden, and Talion clenched his eyes. He curled as he sobbed, choking as his breath stuttered. Perhaps Celebrimbor was not the only Soul to be imprisoned in a never ending war. From the moment Talion grasped Isildur’s Ring with the last of his waning strength he had resigned himself to a fate of torment. A truly cruel fate he had chosen over a restful death.

Talion, for the first time since the Black Gate, was alone. There was no Wraith or Wraith Ring to fill the cracks of his soul. Celebrimbor’s own had done that. Either in part or whole, but at least always there. Isildur’s Ring was not what Talion found himself wanting.

“I did not want this. By the Valar, this is not what I wanted!” Talion sobbed, body shaking under all that he repressed “I have lost my family, and now I have lost my Wraith! Am I doomed to never keep anyone close?!”

( _‘Celebrimbor was not yours! The Dark Lord had claim, and the Dark Lord has taken what was his!’)_ The Ring screeched, remarkably angered ( _‘Celebrimbor did not want you and you should not have wanted him!’_ )

“He was all that I had left!” The Ranger snapped “No matter what Celebrimbor had done, he had given me a chance at revenge! He gave me the ability to avenge my family!”

(' _He used you. Now he is being used. A price worthy for his crime’_ ) Talion shuddered at the vile slip. The Ring was pleased at it’s Lord’s success. (‘ _The Wraith deserved his fate. Rejoice in his suffering.’_ )

Except the dark words began to twist in Talion’s mind. Already he was being saturated by the very darkness of Isildur’s Ring, until it began distorting his world around him. Talion could strain no further against it. Now the suggestions turned into something different, veering away from what the manipulations were intended.

“Celebrimbor- he was taken.” Talion hissed, tears drying tacky on his face “He was taken from me.”

(' _Yes, yes!’_ )

Talion fisted his hands, gritting his teeth as he stared at the stone. A fire began to simmer in his gut, like a Balrog’s whip until it began climbing his throat. It writhed like a serpent. The smoke of awakening darkness, the Ring’s and his own, spiralled down until he should have tasted it, until it should have been all he could smell.

The silence of his body- it rung through him with sickening clarity. There was no stability of another’s presence. Of Celebrimbor’s presence. The hole gaping in his chest- it was as if an olog had punched through Talion, leaving a void that could not close.

All that was wrong in him, all that was being poisoned by the Ring; it came to head.

There should have been an audible crack when Talion finally seized under the strain.

“Celebrimbor was _mine!”_ Talion surged to his feet. His fiery eyes flashed even as the eerie green mist of his powers- Nazgúl, not Wraith, Talion was a Nazgúl- climbed his arms. A plan began to form, borne of possession and desperate hope. “Celebrimbor was not Sauron’s to take!”

Isildur’s Ring began to rally, but Talion drowned it out “He was _stolen_ from me.” the Ranger growled “He betrayed me! I should have decided the price, not Sauron! I held claim, I held the right!” 

( _‘It is too late! They are one and the same! Never shall you see Celebrimbor again!’)_ Isildur’s Ring snarled, a snapping, clawing beast. In confusion the sentience writhed. Something had changed in this man! Where there had been something to grab and twist, suddenly it was like mirrors- there was nothing to bend into breaking. It was as if a force equal to the Ring stared back at it. It was small, just a seed that suggested a potential for immensity. It was growing however, and curled in malice.

Silenced, the Ring did not interrupt Talion’s thoughts as a planned formed.

The Palantír- the Eye of Sauron- they had shown Talion an impossible possibility.

It changed colors, from Sauron’s flames to Celebrimbor’s light, it changed and continued to change. There was no harmony in that display, it spoke of a battle of wills, a resistance in existence. Without harmony there was no possibility of fusion. It was not possible for Celebrimbor and Sauron to have yet become one- until a force was subdued, there would be no singularity, no blurring of two.

Bonds- Talion blinked rapidly- bonds were still being established. Bonds could be broken, as Talion had experienced. It only took something to break them. An instrument, a tool. There was no Ring tying Sauron and Celebrimbor together, there was nothing to remove but Celebrimbor himself but Talion would not be able to invoke his Wraith into appearing so that he could take him away from that dark place; a tool, he needed something to make those bonds visible. Make them vulnerable.

How could Talion do that though? Sauron would not let Talion take Celebrimbor back after finally defeating the elven lord! Talion had no hope of that, he would have to force Sauron to submit.

Domination. _Talion had to dominate Sauron_.

The New Ring, Talion realized. In that disastrous battle, Celebrimbor had used their Ring, and had brought Sauron to his knees! The New Ring was pure of Sauron’s taint, it had no loyalty for him. It had showed that it was powerful. Under it the Dark Lord kneeled.

Unable to keep still, Talion descended the steps to pace the stone path. Forward and back, like a guard walking his post. It was a comforting, familiar routine.

The New Ring, it was the key, the tool that Talion needed. Where had it gone? From Eltariel’s hand it was severed, like a cheap rendition of Sauron’s own defeat an age ago, but never had Talion seen the Dark Lord go to it. There had been no interest in grabbing it, not a single glance at all. It was as if, to Sauron, the Ring had been but a trinket- useless and easily forgotten.

“Not a trinket.” Talion frowned “A weapon, a proven weapon- the Ring would not be forgotten. Sauron is no fool, he would hide it away.” he told the air, coming to a stop in his pacing, staring at nothing ahead. For a moment there was silence, until Talion realized he had been waiting for a clipped response. He shook off the crawling wrongness. “Sauron would know that Ring had no loyalty for him.” If anything, the Ring would be repulsed by the Dark Lord. Celebrimbor’s life force had been poured into its forging, as well as Talion’s; though whether or not Celebrimbor had been aware, the Ranger was not sure. Celebrimbor had been mortal enemies with the Dark Lord. All of Talion’s suffering had been caused by the Dark Lord. There had been no love lost, and all hate gained between them. The Ring would sooner jump away to be lost in a cavern then be used by the Dark Lord, of that Talion was sure.

The Ring would be useless to Sauron, at least for as long as Celebrimbor resisted him. Sauron would first have to subjugate the Wraith. That did not discount the Ring’s power. Sauron was no fool, loath as Talion was to admit it even to himself. It would not be left where it landed, but hidden away- and what of Eltariel? The elven warrior was just as deadly a threat; her abilities blessed to her by the Lady Galadriel had proven time and again that the Nazgúl could be pushed back, and beaten for bought time. That alone would be considered an inexcusable annoyance. Would Eltariel even be alive?

“The Dark Lord would want to gloat.” Talion realized “He just _won_ a prize he had been fighting for. He would not pass the chance to make Eltariel realize her failures, he would want to bring her to the lowest. Why pass off the chance of making your enemies suffer?”

There was no reason. Sauron would be assured in his victory over Celebrimbor. The arrogance spawned from it might have even made Sauron generous.

Perhaps he would keep the elf and Ring close. To him and together. If that was so, then Talion could act! Orcs always talked about a good prisoner. Eltariel would be far easier to track than the New Ring. Talion frowned, feeling a little sick in his stomach when he realized that meant that he _hoped_ Eltariel was being kept prisoner. He had seen Celebrimbor’s time with Sauron; the arm wrenching chains, the torture, the beatings and Celebrimbor’s family. Sauron was cruel. He played with his food. Eltariel would be suffering a similar fate if she was kept prisoner.

Talion shook his head. No. Celebrimbor- the New Ring was his concern. He needed the Ring, even at the cost of Eltariel.

Isildur’s Ring began to murmur again, curling around that thought. ( _‘She encouraged Celebrimbor’_ ) It whispered (‘ _She above all deserves her fate!’_ ).

His stomach rolled uncomfortably. He wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemies. No one deserved being held captive by the Dark Lord (‘ _She help Celebrimbor betray you! She took the Ring and left as you died!’_ ) but she had betrayed Talion all the same…

Talion shook his head, rubbing a hand against his face as he winced. That didn’t mean she deserved to be tortured! ( _‘Who, if not her?’_ ) She was doing what she thought was right ( _‘She should have known better’_ ). 

“Yes, well hindsight is always clear.” Talion muttered, bittered by that. In the end, no good intentions seemed to end with good results. Celebrimbor himself had felt the cost too many times over. The Rings, crafted beautifully under the lies of bringing power to the land’s leaders only to enslave nine, and bring hardship to seven. Only the three elven Rings escaped the wrath, and that was a small number. Now this- in pursuit of his revenge, Celebrimbor had fallen to the siren’s songs of power until he had finally paid the price. All while under the banner of restoring balance to Middle-Earth. Eltariel had simply grabbed a thread of hope that snapped under weight.

(‘ _Should have known better, she should have known!’_ ) Isildur’s Ring insisted (‘ _To think Sauron would fall like a Nazgúl! She above all should have realized that masters are not their servants!’_ ) then, in honeyed voice the Ring continued ( _‘She deserves to reap the folly she had sowed. Her rash actions have hurt you the most- left to die on the Bridge, she couldn’t even bare to look at you to see the consequences. She left you to die in dishonor, taking Celebrimbor with her!’_ )

There was truth in that. Eltariel had left him- couldn’t even wait the minute it would have taken to face Talion’s death. She had left him, had run away while Talion looked on as he choked on his own blood.

Fire bloomed in Talion’s gut, as he was suddenly seized by anger. What coward was she, to turn her back on him?! Had she not taken the Ring with knowledge that without it and the Wraith that Talion would die?! She had to have, she hardly flinched at the slice that had cut across Talion’s neck!

Talion growled, ignoring the gleeful shivering of Isildur’s Ring. If Talion had been so meaningless to her, then he would return that regard in kind. Talion would not save her- he would leave Eltariel to her fate. A small price for what Eltariel’s interferences had costed Talion!

Talion snarled into the air, poison green mist wavering into the air from his hands. He would find the Ring. Without it, Talion would have no way of dominating Sauron- Isildur’s Ring was loyal to the One and by association Sauron. It already radiated uneasy displeasure at Talion’s growing plan. It would not assist Talion in his endeavor, but the New Ring…

Talion had seen it work, bringing Sauron to his knees and turning those evil eyes a dominated blue; a blue those eyes would have stayed had Celebrimbor’s arrogance not overtaken his vigilance. Sauron was not invincible. He was a being that could be chained, subjugated, even if complete destruction was impossible.

Talion squared his shoulders, a new purpose igniting him in vigorous energy. His eyes burned, piercing the night even as they glowed darker than Eru’s most forgotten star as the Ranger promised the empty, listening air.

“I will come for you, Celebrimbor…” the air shivered, and the mist of Talion’s power crepted up his shoulders, wafting away like visible aura “I will not stand leaving you with Sauron as he obliterates you. All of Middle-Earth will not stop me.”

Talion clenched his hands, glaring into the distance as his enhanced vision easily picked out the flashing Eye of Sauron countless of miles away. “Nothing will stop me from taking back what is mine, no matter the cost.”

Above, beyond the mortal plane the Valar heard. They, in their business could not ignore the voice of a mortal that drifted through their halls. It caused each to pause, stunned by the implications. Nienna cried for him, adding to her rivers the sorrows of the Ranger’s plight as she realized what weight the man bore. Eru Ilúvatar heard the mournings of the Vala and looked on, and the Great One contemplated. For all of his omnipresence, Eru would watch the fate of his Children. Unawares of what he had done nor the attention he had gained, Talion only sneered into the distance.

The Ranger had a task, and nothing would stop him in doing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are in for quite the treat! I'm pulling out all the stops for this story. My wonderful friend and I predict maybe 150 pages long (at least), because my first draft ended up being 52 pages, and so far I've double in the rewrite. This discounts the entire scenes I definately plan on adding. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the first chapter!


	2. Riven Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> **[CHAPTER WARNINGS] ******
> 
> Panic attack
> 
> Mentions of child death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My best friend, who is my beta reader, soundboard and most tolerante rant listener is god sent.

Celebrimbor was screaming.

His entire being felt as if he were being rended, torn to shreds only to be put back together until it was all that Celebrimbor was capable of thinking.

Never- never had the Wraith ever experienced such agony. He had always thought the pains he had experienced watching Sauron beat his daughter, beautiful and far too young Inniel, to death in front of him was the most he had ever experienced.

Inniel, whimpering for her Ada to save her. She couldn’t even scream when the first blow fell and Celebrimbor had done it for her.

His own violent end, painful as it had been had felt like righteous punishment for his failures. It felt like the price he had to pay for failing his little one. For failing his beautiful wife in protecting their child, who they had adored equally.

This pain- it was immense, almost equal to that. It was not his heart being destroyed, but his soul. This was a pain none had preparation or tolerance for. Perhaps thrusting a sword blade through a newly born babe’s stomach would come even close, for surely the pain would be just as entrapping.

This was the pain of being forcefully taken, absorbed by his adversary. There was a terrible inevitability in the sucking sensation, as Celebrimbor’s soul was compacted and stretched no matter how the Wraith resisted until all at once he came to a slamming stop.

The world around him had come to a slamming stop.

Celebrimbor stumbled and fell at the loss of resistance around him. He hit the ground, nearly propelled to his back as he tripped only just catching himself by his hands. His arms complained at the abuse, and Celebrimbor gasped as he tried to breath. The pain, it had stopped!

Celebrimbor, caught up in his shock, patted himself down searching for the wounds he had been sure he had, perhaps blood, even a tear in his armor, anything to indicate the sheer agony of what he had experienced. Except he found nothing. He was clean of injury, and when he looked down, he gaped.

Eru, his hands!

Celebrimbor could not believe his eyes- these were the hands he had in life! Healthy, clean and full! No longer did they appear skeletal, dry and weak as he had grown accustomed to seeing. Slowly, as if scared to find out otherwise, Celebrimbor trailed his fingers to his face, delicately mapping his features even as he felt himself shock further.

His face- it was _his_. He could not feel the sunken, rough paper of his skin, the sharp but not hawkish line of his nose, his cheeks. It was as if Celebrimbor had been restored!

“What is this?” Celebrimbor whispered, examining his hair- even that appeared healthy, no longer an echo of what had been. Soft to the touch, not even a hint of the oily lankiness that had become of it.

Celebrimbor dropped the lock of hair, shaking off his shock. A change in appearances was a surprise, but it was hardly important. He looked up, taking in the void around him.

There was no other way to describe his surroundings as anything other than a void. A steady, unbreached darkness was all around the Wraith. On all sides, above him and below. The disconcerting sensation of falling was difficult to ignore. Celebrimbor could feel a floor, he was sitting on something at least, but there was no visible indication of it being there. There was no indications of anything really. No seams to denote walls, and no seams to a ceiling.

Perhaps this was the Outer Void beyond Arda?

Celebrimbor immediately dismissed the thought. No light would shine in that place, and here while there was no light, Celebrimbor’s glow- _‘Winter blue, shining like sunlight through the icicles in early morning.’ ‘Really, Talion-’-_ still persisted. It did nothing in aiding the Wraith.

Slowness borne from caution, Celebrimbor collected himself from where he had fallen. As he straightened he called upon his bow, and Celebrimbor felt his ill-ease lessen as Azkâr materialized in his hand, a full quiver following just as easily on his back.

Celebrimbor dared not move beyond the slow movements it took to nock three arrows on Azkâr's string. He stood, waiting as he listened to the void around him. The silence was unsettling. No sound of any kind could be heard by Celebrimbor’s keen ears, as if sound did not even exist in this place.

Sound, wind or even smell. It was as if this place was outside of Arda’s borders, yet not within the Void that contained it. There was a strange absence in it, a sense of lacking even. Celebrimbor scowled as he struggled to make sense of it. There was literally nothing, yet it was as if he were surrounded by scars.

Finally his frustration turned to impatience.

“Sauron! Where are you?” he called, voice lost as if eaten by the darkness.

 **“Have you not already realized, Celebrimbor?”** A voice responded, echoing oddly through the space until it surrounded the Wraith. The question bounced, repeated, drawled and whispered around him as if from multiple sources at once. Celebrimbor knew that voice, just as well as he knew his own or Talion’s.

“ _Sauron.”_ Celebrimbor growled, and refused to react to the display. His eyes scanned the darkness surrounding him, attempting to pierce it. It was as if Celebrimbor was boxed in by a room. The vertigo he had felt before had eased, but now it was coupled by claustrophobia. The darkness of his surroundings only kept at bay by his own light, unyielding like mithril yet as thin as mist. If Celebrimbor moved, he was sure he could run for an age and never find an edge to his confines, nor would he escape the feeling of a cage. Perhaps this is how a mighty stag felt, when taunted by a pack of wargs.

**“I hope you enjoyed my gift to you, Celebrimbor. You have become most worn by your time as an unbound spirit.”**

“You mock me.” The Wraith snapped, feeling sick to his stomach to think that his restored vitality was because of the dark Maiar _._

 **“Perhaps…”** Sauron’s bodiless voice purred, the sound rolling like velvet all around Celebrimbor. The Wraith suppressed a shiver of disgust.

“Show yourself,  _Perdelos_!” Celebrimbor barked, glaring at the space in front of him as a whole. The tension in his body increased tenfold, ready to spring into action at the slightest indication of attack.

 **“Really, there is no need for such harsh words between us, Celebrimbor,”** the darkness before the Wraith parted like mist, clinging to the figure that stepped into Celebrimbor’s light. Sauron, in fair form smiled benevolently, his eyes flashing brightly with amused malice **“We are now one and the same, after all.”**

Azkâr did not make a sound as Celebrimbor raised his weapon in one smooth action, leveling his arrows to Sauron’s head. “We are not,” the Wraith spat “‘ _one and the same’._ I am nothing like you, Deceiver.”

Sauron chuckled, and the sound echoed around the pair, again sounding as if coming from all over and around. Some sounded miles away, yet others so close it was as if Sauron had leaned over Celebrimbor’s shoulder and breathed the noise directly into Celebrimbor’s ear. The thought had the Wraith’s skin crawling in revolt. **“You call me Deceiver, and yet you have managed to deceive yourself, Celebrimbor. We are alike, you and I. Tell me, when you had me on my knees, what did you hope to accomplish?”**

Before Celebrimbor could clip a response, the Dark Lord sneer **“I know of what you said to your Ranger. Such falsities are useless here.”** a smile, reminding Celebrimbor that once this being had assumed the form of a monstrous wolf **“That mortal, weak as he was, was correct in trying to stop you. What had he said? ‘** ** _I will not trade one Dark Lord for another’?”_ **

Even as Sauron said it, the memory of Talion erupted in Celebrimbor’s mind and against the Wraith’s better judgement, regret bloomed in his breast. Talion had looked like Celebrimbor had skewered him with Urfael’s blade. His words, wounded and begging. Talion’s Soul Song, cresending into a swell that spoke of betrayal and hurt that struck deeply where recovery would have been difficult.

It took a moment for the Wraith to realize that it wasn’t just in the confines of him memories that he heard Talion’s plees. All around him, Talion’s voice whispered, faint yet undeniably there as Sauron had intended, echoing from the past. Celebrimbor frowned, shaking off the strange feeling in his breast as he spoke his displeasure of the reminder “Talion was a fool.”

 **“** ** _Was?_ ** **”** Sauron actually looked surprised **“Do you think him dead?”**

“There was no way for him to survive. Estariel took the Ring, and I with her left him on the Bridge.” Celebrimbor spat, hating the increasingly gleeful expression of the other.

 **“To think you had so little faith in your puppet!”** Sauron laughed **“The Ranger yet lives! Have you forgotten that a Ring can bring a deadman back?”**

A cold lance of dread speared down Celebrimbor’s spine “What have you done to him.”

 **“Nothing.”** Sauron scoffed **“That man refused death by his own decision. It was he who picked up Isildur’s Ring, and slid it on to his finger.”**

Celebrimbor felt sick. Talion had..? No. Talion would not willfully put himself under the service of Sauron- Talion barely tolerated anything that strayed from his narrow line of morals, and becoming Nazgúl was inconceivable.

“Cease your lying, Sauron!” Celebrimbor snarled, drawing Azkâr's string tighter as he nearly trembled in fury. Talion would not- Talion would never serve Sauron, the mere suggestion from the serpent’s mouth was beyond nauseating. “Talion is dead, he died on the Bridge. Never will you ever touch him!” Nor would he, his inner voice murmured, for if Talion is dead he is beyond Arda’s walls where Celebrimbor would never be able to follow should he ever escape Sauron.

Sauron only smiled, shaking his head in mocking disappointment. He began walking, gliding almost, in a leisurely circle around Celebrimbor. The Wraith turned with him, keeping his drawn weapon aimed true to the Dark Lord’s head. It would only take a twitch of his fingers to send the arrows flying. **“Believe what you may, Celebrimbor. The only lier here is you to yourself.”** Celebrimbor growled **“Returning to point however; your Ranger is no fool. You, on the other hand… Your Ranger at least, was not blind to how truly you changed. His good heart chafed against your callous tactics, and every turn he pushed back, questioning your every intention. Where you failed compassion, he enforced it.”** Sauron tilted his head, locking eyes with Celebrimbor with steady attention **“You should have listened to him. Perhaps you would not be here now, but still with him where he is ‘alive’ and you free.”**

“And I should believe your words?” Celebrimbor spat “Talion stood in my way of bringing your fall, restoring balance to Mordor and releasing Middle-Earth from your shadow!”

 **“To continue my work under your banner.”** Sauron mused, staring at Celebrimbor as if the Wraith were a child who had greatly disappointed **“A pretty title does not change what hides underneath. Bright Lord indeed. Even in death, you have not learned.”**

There was a twang as Azkâr’s string leapt forth, propelling arrows to fly. Yet seemingly before the arrows had left the string, Sauron had already vanished and the arrows continued harmlessly into the dark. There was not even a clatter to be heard if they hit the floor. Celebrimbor nocked another set “I will not listen to your poisoned words, Sauron!” Celebrimbor shouted.

A laugh **“I only speak truth, old friend! Tell me, was your Ranger a worthy price to have paid for your plans? You removed his interference, yet still here you are!”** Celebrimbor spun in place, sweeping his weapon across the Void.

“Silence!” The Wraith roared, pushing down the seed of anxiety that traitorously formed in his chest. The talk of Talion had only enforced the silence Celebrimbor had been cloaked in since that moment he severed their bonds. Even with Eltariel as his host, he had not allowed himself to be housed in her body. He hadn’t been able to consider it. It was an intimate state, where souls were flush to each other in cramped confines, the vibrating energies constant and never quiet. He had hovered his spirit around her, stretched thin yet it had functioned. When the Ring had been severed from her hand, it had broken the superficial bond that kept the elves linked, leaving the Wraith vulnerable to what had happened. Alone, the absence of Talion’s presence seemed so much louder.

Surprisingly, Sauron did not continue to taunt Celebrimbor with Talion’s loss, and Celebrimbor thanked Eru for the small mercy.

 **“Tell me, Celebrimbor. Where do you think you are?”** Sauron inquired quietly, sly and mocking.

The wraith stayed silent, scowling fiercely into the darkness. Around him, light began to filter through. It was as if Celebrimbor was in the center of a whirlwind. Bewildered, Celebrimbor’s hold on Azkâr relaxed a fraction. He watched as the Void swirled around him, uncannily like smoke and fire in all but color.

 **“You and I have become one, and it is here that you will disappear completely.”** A massive gust of force- far too heavy to be air, suddenly blew away the darkness. Celebrimbor braced, only just saving himself from being bowled over. He was forced to close his eyes as he grimaced, his eyes overwhelmed by the onslaught after so long in pitch black.

He squinted, then gaped at what he saw just as Sauron purred **“Here, surrounded by me. Welcome to the heart of my being, Celebrimbor.”**

 **XXX**  

Talion had quickly acted upon his plan. He had felt listless, desperate even, when he had been on the steps of Minas Morgul’s castle, but now a fire had ignited in his veins. It was all consuming, and if the Ranger was not careful, he would burn.

Talion went to the closest outpost. Then the next when no worms there had given him the information he needed. Then the next, and the next.

Crushing the skull of the newest worm he’d caught, Talion snarled in frustration. He ignored the screams of terror as survivors scrambled away, flicking his hand hard to whip off the uruk blood that coated his fingers.

(' _Useless, useless.’)_ Isildur’s Ring murmured. Talion ignored it as he stepped over rubble, taking a vacated spot by the campfire of the now empty outpost. He sat, pulling his spectral glaive into existence, resting it by his leg where it shimmered at the ready. Should some brave or foolish Orc attempt an ambush, Talion would not be caught unprepared. Talion considered it for a long moment. It was Aeglos, Celebrimbor’s weapon that bore the Bright Lord banner with proud spectral elegance, and many battles it had seen.

Discounting the battles in life the glaive had seen in the hands of its first wielder- High King Gil-galad, the glaive had proven to have equal devastating effects in the hands of Celebrimbor. Hopefully, in his hands, Aeglos would prove just as ferocious with Talion.

_(‘Useless, useless.’)_

Talion shook his head, closing his eyes as he silently hissed in pain. Isildur’s Ring was a persistent thing. Constantly it spoke, trying to incur doubt in Talion’s breast- the ceaseless noise had quickly inspired a brutal migraine. The man was sure that if he had been truly mortal any longer he would be blind from it. However, he was Nazgúl and he did not.

_(‘Useless, useless, useless.’)_

For a moment, Talion thought, he would rest just for a moment. Since the first hatchings of his plan, and since his rapid, tireless sieges upon every outpost in the city Talion had not rested. He hadn’t needed to. The fire in his blood would not allow it; it made him painfully restless until Talion was sure he would burn away from it if he did not _move_. Even now, it writhed under his skin, like persistent maggots burrowed in his flesh. Isildur’s Ring certainly had power to it, but it almost pale in whatever caused Talion’s insides to burn so.

Talion was not stupid. Tireless as he felt, the pace he’d set was relentless and unhealthy. Lesser creatures would die from the exhaustion of it, for Talion’s hunt had caused him to strike at one camp and clear it down to every last orc only to race with elven speed to the next without even a pause to clean his blades or clothes. Word of a camp’s desecration would often be beaten by the Ranger himself.

_(‘Useless. Why do you struggle, Talion? Your suffering is pointless.’)_

Viciously, Talion seized a stray branch and stabbed at the fire, coaxing it from a burn to a roar. Eru, his hands shook. Was it the exhaustion he could not feel, or was it the demonic fire in his blood Talion wondered, holding his hands close to his face, watching how they trembled fiercely. Reluctantly, as if his gaze were pulled, Talion looked at the Ring.

His hands were colored black by the blood of his conquests, so thick that his fingers seemed to crack as he bent them causing the dried blood to flake in thick chunks and crumble away. His hands were stained, yet the Ring- the Ring was clean. Irrationally, Talion felt his mood shift as he gazed at the pristine band. Annoyance rose, and Talion had to bite his tongue to keep himself spitting his anger.

“May it be that my hands might become gloved by the blood of uruk, yet you would always remain clean!” Talion sneered “As if the dirtiest thing I cover my hands with were not _you._ ”

 _(‘You suffer needlessly, Talion.’)_ The Ring whispered _(‘The Wraith deserves none of your devotion. He casted you aside and betrayed your trust. But the Dark Lord, he will grant the peace you have always wanted!’)_

Talion huffed sharply, dropping his hands so that he would not have to look at the Ring. There was an insistent tug in his mind, one that caused constant battle for Talion. The Ring was a clever thing after all, and if it wasn’t causing Talion so much hardship, he would be impressed by the craftsmanship of Celebrimbor’s talents. Truly, the Wraith had outdone himself even if those efforts had gone so, _so_ wrong.

The Ring was clever, oh yes, a beautifully sly thing indeed. To Talion it spoke honeyed words, yet always it sought to pull his mind from the path he’d set himself on. Perhaps it would turn him into something like that greedly little creature, Gollum. Big eyed, emancipated and coveting for the One Ring, surely to end up cradling the evil trinket like a child and coo disgustingly at only to lash out like a rabid dog should someone try and take it from him. If Talion had mortal life still, he would have bet it that Isildur’s Ring wished to create similar madness in him.

 _Oh how he ached for peace._ Talion wondered if he even knew what peace was anymore. Was it his time with Ioreth and Dirhael, surrounded by family and love? Or perhaps when he shared laughs and good drinks with the other Rangers at the Black Gate, where it was as if the black cloud of Mordor’s presence could not touch them? No, always there had been something in those times to cause worry. There had always been a shadow on his lovely wife’s face, and drinks had been shared, but often it was as if they drank to stave off the depression knowing that they were at the Black Gate because society had tossed them away.

Perhaps Talion had never experienced it then, but than Talion would remember those moments. How, he and Celebrimbor would find a hidden cliff that overlooked the Sea of Núrnen, most often at night but sometimes during the day. Those were the times that Talion felt as if he could truly breath unburdened.

His time trapped in Mordor had forced Talion to seek out beauty amidst all the grime and ugly things, to do his sanity good. It was the Sea that had truly struck Talion.

It had been the first time Talion had entered Núrn. The greenery had seemingly planted his feet, stealing away his breath and nearly making him cry. The air had been fresh, far sweeter than it had been in Udun, and carried the salt of a large body of water on the wind.

Talion had marveled, but what truly pulled him into wonder was how he could see water at the horizon, and a sunset.

In their travels in hunting for the Black Hand, Talion had continued to appreciate the rare and seldom beauty.

“Was this how Mordor was, before Sauron came?” Talion asked, once when they had found an isolated cliff in which only they could reach. It had been a small place, just a modest cliff with a single tree and a few bushes and long grass. There was charm in it, but the view of the Sea had been spectacular. Talion could’ve spent an eternity just breathing in the seabreeze and appreciating the sunsets or stars as they hung above the water.

“No.” Celebrimbor had answered. Eru, thinking back, the Wraith had looked so healthy back then compared to that final moment Talion had seen him, skin less flawed, hair less frayed, and eyes more clear. “No,” Celebrimbor repeated, and he’d quieted a little “It was far more beautiful. It was a black place in its creation, but Sauron only coaxed what Morgoth had begun. These lands were created by destruction, but life will take hold no matter the conditions. Mordor had once been not so gray, and perhaps men or elves would have banished the evil and made this place good.”

Talion remembered looking away from the water, to watch his companion. “That sounds lovely.” he’d admitted “A place I could’ve called home…”

Celebrimbor had gripped Talion’s forearm, his ghostly hand misting where they made contact “Perhaps you might have.”

 _Oh how he wished for those simpler times._ Talion caught a sob, and clenched his eyes.

_(‘They call you, Talion. They will accept you.’)_

“Silence yourself, foul thing!” Talion snapped, glaring harshly at the Ring. “There is nothing the Faceless or their Lord they can offer that I would take. Nothing they _would_ offer.”

 _(‘Anything, anything but the Wraith!’)_ Isildur’s Ring insisted _(‘What of lovely Ioreth or dear Dirhael? He can bring them back to you. Life is not beyond his power to give!’)_

Talion felt his chest seize. Ioreth… and Dirhael? Given a second chance, just as he had, at life? To resume where otherwise cut short? Talion allowed himself to imagine such a thing, just for a moment.

Beautiful Ioreth, who had followed Talion when Gondor cast him out to the Black Gate. How her hair had shown in the sunlight like feathers, and her face would glow when she smiled. She could draw crowds with her singing- she had such a captivating voice. Her temper had been fiery, quick and sharp. The very thing that had ensnared Talion first.

Dirhael, his _son_. The boy had been far too young to die so brutally. He had gotten Talion’s driven personality from when he was young, but had Ioreth's gentle side. Many a girl had swooned when Dirhael had been caught with one of many stray cats or kittens that kept the rodents at the Black Gate at bay.

To have them come back _alive_ , within his reach, where Talion could hold them close and never let them go. Would that really be so terrible?

It would be. Talion pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, swallowing against his sorrow. It would be so terrible that neither of them would forgive Talion.

He would sign away what life he had to eternal, hellish service where history would forget him and he would only become one of Nine, as if for a time Nine had never been Eight because of him. That alone would bring them more grief then they could bare as price for their lives.

Not only that, what lives would Sauron dain to give a mortal woman and boy? Would it be a true rebirth, where they would rise as if they had never fallen? Or would be as Talion, banished from death and caught in undeath where there was no peace? Most likely, it would be like the walking corpses, risen by necromancers and now Talion himself. Those creatures were mindless, moaning, sorry things. Never had Talion seen one rise with semblance of what they had been before, except Zog the Eternal who had been entirely too unique for his own good.

No, no matter the life the Dark Lord might return to them, they would be miserable. Talion could not, _would not_ take them away from the painless and peaceful places they found in death, where they still yet waited for him. To take them away from that and into the thick of suffering Talion himself stood in? Like a swelling river up to his chin very nearly sweeping away his feet to drown him, and suffocate away what good he clung to?

“There is nothing that they would offer, Ring that I would take. Not even my family.” Talion gazed into the fire, stick limp in his hand and Aeglos glowing at his side. “I know the suffering in undeath. I am not so selfish as to bring them into it.”

 _(‘But selfish enough to hunt for a Wraith? Or maybe you are greedy.’)_ Isildur’s Ring snapped mulishly _(‘You chase shadows, Talion, and run from the inevitable. You will bow before my Master. You will bow before the Witch King.’)_ The Ring fell silent, a simmering presence in Talion’s mind, but blessedly quiet having said its piece.

It was too quiet, Talion realized, now that the racket of his parasite had quieted. Blinking, Talion looked around, the branch slipping from his hand as he stood, picking up Aeglos as he did so. He turned, cocking his head slightly. Where was the screaming and shrieking, or the low malicious chatter of orcs?

Curious, Talion began to walk, weapon at the ready. It was as if the city were dead of any life, dark or fair! There was not even a breeze or cries of Hell-hawks from the air!

Talion paused, looking around. Eru, this silence was like his body. Unnatural and unsettling, a howling quiet that caused the hair on Talion’s arms and at his nape to rise in attention.

It was quiet, too quiet. There was no hum of a Soul Song- no Celebrimbor to speak to, the absence like a bleeding wound. There was no noise of battle or arguments. There were orcs left in the city, Talion knew that, not ten minutes before did he watch survivors scramble from his blade baying for safety. As quick as his pace had been, there was no way Talion had purged Minas Morgul of uruks. Not every single one.

Talion gripped Aeglos tightly, trying to control his breathing as he felt the earth shift under him in a subtle spin. Breathing became difficult, and Talion found stumbling back until he collided with a wall, knocking his breath out of him completely. Talion clenched his eyes, then clapped his hands over his ears as if they could block out the damnable _quiet._ He slid, legs failing their strength, until he was sitting, knees pulled tightly to his chest.

Desperately, Talion found himself humming, loud and painful to his throat, the song the Ioreth so loved to sing.

Slowly, as he kept singing to himself, the world stopped spinning, and the dark that had been creeping into his vision receded. The song ended, leaving Talion with a sore throat and cold sweat on his skin, but it did its job. Talion panted, so loudly the noise he made filled the alley. Furiously, he wiped his eyes, clearing the tear tracks that soaked his face. He still shook like a newborn fawn, but Talion forced himself to stand, gripping the wall and once again summoning Aeglos. As the glaive shimmered into his hand, Talion felt himself settle once more.

“I cannot stop.” Talion rasped “I cannot be weak. Not until I’m done, not until I get Celebrimbor back.” The man promised to himself, blinking hard to banish the prick of more tears. “He is all that I have left.” Talion reminded himself “He had no one to take him back. He only has me. I cannot…” Talion snapped his mouth shut, cutting off anything else he might have said.

With a final, harsh breath through his nose, Talion pushed himself away from the wall, and walked for the streets.

Talion’s task was not yet done. If the uruks would not cry out their locations, then he would hunt them down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Perdelos] Withering, abhorrence  
> Pel- : vb. wither, fade  
> Delos : name. detestation, abhorrence, fear, horror dread, loathing


	3. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> **[CHAPTER WARNINGS] ******
> 
> Strangulation
> 
> Torture

When uruks had incentive, they were surprisingly stealthy. However, they could not hide from Talion’s vision in the Wraith World. There, they glowed as surely as torches in the dead of night.

Unfortunately, the first pair Talion ran across had no worms or captains to interrogate, but he stalked them from the shadows. His hand itched to pull Urfael from its scabbard and put the uruks down, as it had since he’d begun his hunt. That, and the burning to move and fight that kept him from resting for more than an hour at most.

Perhaps, Talion thought privately, this was his descent. He would not become a mad, shrieking shell of his former self as Gollum had. Instead, he would burn away, with fire in his blood, Nazgúl smoke wafting from his hands and a ringing silence in his body as Isildur’s Ring coaxed his resolve to bend and break.

 _Celebrimbor_ . In moments where he felt himself waver, Talion reminded himself fiercely. _It is Celebrimbor I seek. I will not stop until I have him back._

It caused the fire to excite, but eased the ringing, if only for a moment. It did not lessen the pain of his soul. That continued to cry out, and constantly it still felt ripped across the lands, from Talion to the tower of Barad-dûr.

Talion hunted, and listened to the uruks he crept after from the shadows. With his sharpen ears, it was not difficult for the Nazgúl to eavesdrop.

“I can’t believe the capt’n hadn’t already order a retreat.” One muttered, nervously sharpening his blade with a subdued _snick_ at every pass “The Gravewalker’s gone mad. I ain’t ever heard of a Tark who’d cut through uruk or olog like that one has.”

“Quiet! If the captain hears ye complaining, it’ll be yer head on a pike!” The other hissed, fidgeting with a bowl of grog freshly taken from a barrel at his elbow. Talion considered it for a moment. He could easily shoot it from his vantage, inciting a fiery explosion, or he could poison it and cause the next drinker to go berserk and attack the other. His arms ached to pull the strings of Azkâr taunt and do just that, but Talion checked himself. Not yet. “‘E’s already twitchy enough because of the Gravewalker, you don’t need to go and be making em think yer going to revolt on em!”

“I ain’t goin’ ta revolt, you shrakh! I just don’t want’a die! Haven’t you heard what the Gravewalker has gone and done?!” The first dropped his crude wetstone, waving his hands frantically “There ain’t no more worms in Minas Morgul! Every last one! And capt’ns are droppin’ as fast as they come!” He grabbed the other, shaking him despite the squawk of offense “It’s been a week since this madness began! I ain’t fixing to meet the Tark! What's one uruk again ‘im when ‘e’s slaughtered entire camps of us one after the other! I ‘eard the recent group of ologs from Gorgoroth gone and got turned to mince at the bridge! _They hadn’ even made it to the shrakhing gate!_ ”

“Are ye pullin’ my leg here?!” The second gasp, shaking off the clawing hold “There’d been at least twenty of em! The Gravewalker couln’ ‘ave kill em all!”

“But he did. Don’t you get it? Minas Morgul isn’t safe anymore for us! Uruks are runnin’ away, and I be bettin’ my foot they’re safer desertin’ then sticking it out ‘ere!”

“Ye sayin’ that’s what yer goin’ ta be doin’? Climbin’ the wall and runnin’ back to Cirith Ungol?”

“Maybe you want to face the Tark, but I sure as shrakh don’t! Uruks are calling ‘im a _demon_. No one even has time to worry ‘bout that eye in Barad-dûr! I talked to an orc who got away- said the man’s eyes were just as bad. Said the man looked sick! Somethin’ happened and it changed the Tark into whats hunting out worms!” The uruk stood, clutching his blade tightly as he stepped away, already looking ready to bolt “No one knows what goin’ on with em, and I don’t want nothin’ to do with it! I’m leavin’, you can come with me, or stay and get yourself a guttin’, but I ain’t!”

Talion watched as the uruk ran, spinning on his heel and barreling down the street as if Talion had dropped from his perch and was giving chase. “W-Wait!” The other cried, scrambling to catch up, dropping his bowl and scooping up his club, nearly careering into a wall as he fought to run “I’m comin’ with ye, _w-wait_!!”

Talion let them go. They were useless to him, being that they weren’t worms, and perhaps he could call it a reward. They had proven themselves with a margin of intelligence in choosing to run before meeting his blade, and have provided him with valuable information.

It explained why he so rarely could find worms anymore.

“So, I scare them.” Talion mused, smiling falsely “I scare a race bred for war into running for their lives. I’m sure you would laugh at this, Celebrimbor.” Talion said, glancing in the direction of the Black Tower, knowing his eyes facing true. It was as if the tower were his focal point now, now that his Wraith was there. “From Gravewalker, to Bright Lord and now a demon. How many names will I gather before we are done…”

His mirth did not last long. As quickly as his amusement rose, it fell just as fast. Talion did not have time to rest- Celebrimbor did not have time, Talion could feel it in his bones.

It was as if across the miles that separate them, Talion could still sense the other, and feel how Celebrimbor was beginning to flag. It inspired a panic deep in the Ranger’s bones, consuming and blinding.

He needed to hurry.

Dropping from the ropes he’d balanced on above the line of sight of any below, Talion shook his head. “If the worms no longer come to Minas Morgul, then I must go to other regions…” he mused. Distracted, Talion walked. Certainly, it explained the silence in Minas Morgul; orcs were fleeing the city, many probably refused to come. Talion hadn’t realized just how effective his searching had been, for until now he hadn’t realized that he’d been essentially been exterminating orc presence more effectively than rats.

Turning a corner, Talion spun in a circle, unsheathing Urfael to block a strike aimed to decapitate him. He grunted, and the uruk snarled, blasting Talion with the foul, rotten scent of his breath “Tark shrakh! Ye been effective in scarin’ away my boys with yer games, and I don’t like it! I’ll cut ye down here and now and show em yer head. No Tark is invincible!”

 _(‘Tôrz Quick-Blades’)_ Isildur’s Ring whispered, sounding pleased _(‘Make an example of him, Talion. Show your enemies just what you are!’)_  Talion could not argue with that.  

With a roar, Talion shoved the captain away, putting distance between them just for a moment before he swung Urfael. Tôrz blocked the strike, sending up sparks as his crude morgul blade screeched against the Ranger’s. The uruk leaned close, too close, Talion broke away, just barely dodging the dagger aimed for the space between the plates protecting his ribs.

Tôrz laughed, giving chase “Ye quick, Gravewalker! Might even be a challenge!” the uruk praised, parrying Talion’s sword with the dagger, aiming to bash Talion’s unarmored head with his sword pommel. Talion ducked, and with quick footwork, slipped under Tôrz’s arm to strike his unprotected back.

Talion, both hands gripping the hilt, put all of his strength into the downward slash as he cut a diagonal line from shoulder to hip. The captain grunted, but could not turn as Talion continued his assault, keeping the uruk unbalanced. Tôrz collided with a wall, and finally spun away, avoiding another attack and blocking the next for his chest. Blood ran from his mouth as the captain grinned. “Look at those eyes! Ye want me dead, I can tell! That bloodlust is good! Let it consume you, Tark!”

_(‘Cut him down, Talion!’)_

Talion snarled, vision going red. A powerful fury raged, shaking his limbs and gnashing his teeth. _How dare this scum attack him_! Caught in the heat of battle, Talion broke the locking of their blades with a vicious headbutt, hearing and feeling the satisfying crunch as his attack broke the captain's nose. Tôrz gurgled, coughing and wincing but grinning still, his teeth painted black from blood. He laughed, breaking away from Talion and gaining distance. He wiped at the blood pouring from his nose, only smearing it across his face “Now ye gettin’ it! Maybe my boys were right about ye!”

“Be. Quiet.” Talion growled, parrying a strike that otherwise would have cleaved him in half.

Tôrz only cackled, and lashed out again. Talion, frustrated, avoided the attack and vaulted the uruk, kicking his head and stunning the captain. With the opportunity open, Talion struck quickly, over and over slashing Tôrz, building speed at every pass until his limbs seemed to blur the air. In a final attack, Talion attempted to slice Tôrz completely in half, only to shout in anger as the captain turned, and caught Urfael’s blade with an armor protected hand, yanking the Ranger close only to pick Talion up by the throat with the hand that held his dagger, digging the hilt painfully into his skin. Talion struggled, given only a moment to realize his position until he was tossed away.

Talion hit the ground with a painful _thud_ , and he rolled with the momentum to regain his footing, hardly balanced before he dove for Tôrz with a roar.

“Good, good! Show me what ye got, Tark!” Tôrz taunted “Prove ye ain’t a man no more!”

_(‘FINISH HIM, TALION!’)_

Talion collided, barreling the captain straight off his feet. The two rolled, grappling as they each lost their grip on their weapons, reduced to striking out at eachother with fists and knees. Tôrz laughed the entire way, breathless and gurgling and _why wouldn’t he just shut up!_

Elbowing the uruk in the face, Talion stunned him just long enough to get a solid, strangling grip on his throat. Pinned beneath the not inconsiderable weight of the Ranger, Tôrz could not throw off Talion, even as he squirmed and writhed in the dirt. Wheezing and already growing weak, Tôrz managed a chuckle, staring up at the snarling man above him. Despite his blackening vision and wavering consciousness, he could still make out the teeth Talion bared, and the crazed gleam blooming beautifully in his inflamed eyes.

“Y-Ye thin...k ye above us mag- maggots in the dirt?” Tôrz gurgled, sneering at Talion “Yer just like us- ye…” he coughed, going limp “ye just another… _monster_ … Yer no different- from us.”

There was a sickening crunch, and Tôrz finally stilled. Panting, Talion slowly released his deathly grip on the dead uruk’s collapsed throat, and leaned back.

“I am nothing like you.” Talion sneered. He staggered to his feet, breathing heavily as he recovered his sword. Mechanically, Talion wiped the blade clean and only realized how badly he trembled when he tried and failed to sheathe Urfael, missing it completely and nearly dropping his sword.

 _(‘Well done, Talion.’)_ Isildur’s Ring praised, purring through his mind content as a cat.

Bile rose in Talion’s throat, and with difficulty, he swallowed it back. “What was that, Ring?”

 _(‘You’re becoming, Talion. You are finally embracing your fate.’)_ The Ring began _(‘The violence is intoxicating, so much that you still want to fight. Don’t you feel it? It felt good to kill that uruk, with your bare hands no less. You want to do it again. There is nothing wrong with that. Hunt, Talion. Find more. Kill as many as you want.’)_ It urged.

Talion sucked in a sharp breath, clenching his eyes so tightly colours burst behind the lids, and tightened his fists until they hurt. _Yes_ , it was intoxicating. The fire in his blood was blazing anew, urging him to run and run his foes through, until his hands were slick with so much blood it would be difficult to keep a hold on his sword and he himself were painted entirely in black. The image of it, it sent such a powerful spike of pure _want_ that Talion stumbled a step forward until he halted himself.

He trembled fiercely, and was surely a strange sight, the way he was shaking and planted in the middle of the street, mumbling in argument to seemingly no one.

He wanted- Talion shook his head harshly. _No!_ He mustn’t lose himself in the Battle-fever! If he gave in, Talion knew with utmost certainty that he would never recover from it. To give in once would be complete loss. He couldn’t do that, no matter how much his bones ached to kill. Ached to _slaughter._

“I must take Celebrimbor back.” Talion growled “Celebrimbor is mine to reclaim.”

 _(‘Why do you resist yourself, Talion?! The Wraith is not worth this. He is gone, and you are a fool to think otherwise!’)_ Isildur’s Ring seemed to scream.

Talion shook his head, gasping for breath as he thought of Celebrimbor fiercely. How the Wraith would glow softly of winter and stars, and always seemed to have an opinion for anything. The drive Talion had both hated and admired, and the fierceness in which the Wraith always fought.

“Celebrimbor is all that I have left.” Talion reminded himself, _promised_ himself. If he thought anything different, then his will to remain fighting Mordor itself with vanish in a heartbeat, and Talion would cast aside the cursed Ring that kept him tied to undeath. “The Wraith is mine. He is not Sauron’s. I will not leave him with the consequences of his foolish actions. Not when he has left me in betrayal to do it!”

 _(‘Why do you cling to him, Talion?’)_ Isildur’s Ring murmured _(‘He bound you from your family and manipulated you at your weakest, yet still you cling to him. You are free of him!’)_

An old question at this point, one that the Ring constantly asked him. Truthfully, Talion wasn’t completely sure _why_ he was so determined to stay with the Wraith, sharing his fate and damnation until their destruction, Sauron’s or their salvation. In his chest- in his soul it simply felt inconceivable to consider abandoning Celebrimbor. His very being revolted against the thought.

Again, Talion considered when did the Wraith become so essential to him. There had been a time once, when they had never crossed paths and lived separately of the other. No longer did the Ranger remember how that felt. The pressure, Song and constant presence had simply become a part of Talion’s makeup.

 _(‘The Wraith is not so special, Talion, to steal away your individuality.’)_ Isildur’s Ring reasoned, paining Talion with the truth of it. Just as the Ring intended, cleverly worded, as if the fate it pushed Talion towards would not rob away Talion’s entire identity.

“At some point, Celebrimbor had made himself important to me.” Talion admitted, tired of the constant arguing with evil sentience. “Perhaps it was by intention, so that the host did not reject the invader or by accident. It does not matter…”

Isildur’s Ring rumbled in dissatisfaction, creating a headache to pound at Talion’s temples. 

The Ranger shook himself, sheathing Urfael. It did not matter, he needed to hunt. Celebrimbor- Talion _needed_ to get the Wraith back. Celebrimbor did not have the luxury of time, and the Wraith did not know that Talion was searching for a way to get him back. All the less reasons for Celebrimbor to resist Sauron.

 **XXX**  

After the Sauron’s bone-chilling declaration, Celebrimbor’s world had exploded into battle.

This time however, it was not just for survival; Celebrimbor was fighting for his continued existence.

The world- the construct the Dark Lord had constructed as their arena, heaved underfoot. The waves sparked with fire and blood, rushing for the Wraith. Celebrimbor only narrowly dodged the onslaught as he jumped, releasing the arrows nocked to Azkâr's string. The arrows flew true, and yet before they reached their target, they audibly sizzled, before burning away. Sauron smiled, and summoned his mace with a casual flick of his hand.

Celebrimbor growled, dismissing Azkâr only to summon his gilded sword in its place. Celebrimbor had hardly touched the ground before he struck again, dashing with elven speed and with a roar slashed through Sauron’s guard, scoring his side with a spectacular spray of blood.

Sauron spun away, and before he even completed the motion, the wound had already knitted itself closed, clothes unmarred. The blood that had landed on Celebrimbor’s hands hissed, and the Wraith grit his teeth as it burned like acid.

 **“Do you believe you have any hope of winning, Celebrimbor?”** Sauron asked, blocking the next series of attacks with easy motions **“You will fail.”**

Celebrimbor rushed again, every strike screeching across Sauron’s guard in showers of sparks. Celebrimbor ducked, diving under a strike for his head and collided with Sauron, knocking the Dark Lord off balance. An arrow materialized in the Wraith’s hand, and like he would’ve with a dagger, Celebrimbor plunged it through Sauron’s ribs, aimed up for the heart.

The arrow came to a jarring stop, and a blast of energy threw Celebrimbor aside. Hitting the ground, Celebrimbor rolled from the pursuing stomp meant to crush his throat. Recovering, Celebrimbor watched Sauron snapped the arrow’s shaft, tossing it aside and frowning in light concentration. What was left of the shaft embedded in Sauron’s side began to tremble, and with sickening wet, sucking sounds, the arrow hovered free. The wound closed as that part of the arrow followed its other half.

Celebrimbor roared wordlessly, stabbing towards Sauron’s unprotected right side. As the Dark Lord went to parry, Celebrimbor suddenly pulled back, only to slash at Sauron’s now opened left. His blade came to a sudden stop, and Celebrimbor’s eyes widened when he realized Sauron had caught his blade with his _bare hand._

Celebrimbor pulled, trying to free his weapon. Panic was beginning to blossom in his chest, weeds of uncertainty taking hold. Nothing was _working_ , this was nothing like the battles Celebrimbor had ever fought against the Dark Lord! Every blow he landed was landed with too much ease- as if Sauron was allowing the injuries.

Sauron suddenly yanked, and caught by surprise, Celebrimbor was pulled along. Suddenly, the Wraith found himself face to face with the Enemy, not two inches apart between them like a mockery of intimacy. **“Why do you think I allow you to fight me, Celebrimbor? Hm?”** Sauron purred, and the puffs of cool breath on his face nearly made Celebrimbor’s gut heave, despite how many centuries it had been since he’d had a stomach. Celebrimbor kept his silence, sneering and he attempted to reclaim his sword again **“What, no more words? You were so spirited just now, what’s wrong old friend?”**

Celebrimbor suddenly felt a hand slide into his hair, gripping tightly and wrenching his neck to a painful angle. He gasped as a painful burn suddenly began to emanate from the point of contact. There was a moment of agony, weakening his legs and blackening his vision. Celebrimbor struggled, gasping under the onslaught “Wha-what are you doing to me-!?” Something snapped into place, and Celebrimbor wheezed, bile rising in his throat as a vile sensation erupted throughout his body. There was a feeling of something slimy and dark invading Celebrimbor’s soul, wrapping and tugging not unlike the threatening feeling of a hand at his throat.

Finally, with a massive heave of effort, Celebrimbor wrenched away. Sauron was left holding a handful of the Wraith’s dark hair, and Celebrimbor stumbled away empty handed putting pressure on the wound to his scalp as he winced. Sauron straightened, dropping the clump to evaporate away, smiling in amusement to Celebrimbor’s struggles.

Dizzy, Celebrimbor shook his head, willing himself to _focus_. His vision was spotty, and he felt as if a rope had latched around his throat, burrowing under his skin and pulling him towards Sauron. “What have you done to me?” Celebrimbor hissed, feeling weaker by the moment. It was a slight sensation, slow but steady and at a rate just enough to be noticeable.

Metallic screeching filled the air, as Sauron crushed Celebrimbor’s abandoned sword in hand. There was a flash, and the sword shattered, turning to dust in his palm and blown away by an unfelt breeze.

Celebrimbor watched with wide eyes. _That should not be possible,_ Celebrimbor thought _how did he- my weapons cannot be destroyed as if they were physical things!_ Celebrimbor backed away, seized with increasing fear and confusion. Sauron laughed, and stalked closer, twisting his mace in hand.

 **“Do you understand now, Celebrimbor? It is no longer so easy to fight me. Not here. Here, the rules are different. You are in the seat of my power, Wraith.”** Unexpectedly, hands seized Celebrimbor’s arms, wrenching them behind his back and knocking him to his knees. A chin hooked over his shoulder, and a voice he’d hope to never hear in such a place ghosted against his ear.

“You have no influence here, Wraith. Here, the Dark Lord makes all the rules. It would be best to just give up.” _Talion._ Celebrimbor flinched, turning his head to catch sight of the Ranger, and choked on a gasp as eyes of fire met his. “After all, I did. Because of _you._ ” 

“Why do you call this Shade, Deceiver?!” Celebrimbor hissed, trying to throw off the weight of Talion, eyes snapping away. _It’s not him. Talion is dead, he’s gone- he died because of you. He’s beyond Sauron’s grasp_ Celebrimbor thought, reminding himself viciously, refusing to fall for the illusion. However, no matter how he struggled, the iron grip would not lessen, but only tightened until Celebrimbor feared it would break his arms despite the armor between his flesh and force.

Crying out in pain before he bit his tongue, Celebrimbor ceased, breathing hard through his nose. A twisted version of Talion’s laugh was breathed into his ear as the Shade chuckled, and the Shade pressed uncomfortably close, until it was draped across Celebrimbor’s back, forcing the Wraith to take its weight. The pressure put even more force on his arms, wrenching his shoulders even further from the seats of the sockets, threatening to slowly and painfully dislocate. Celebrimbor tasted blood as he bit through his tongue. “What's wrong, Celebrimbor? Do I disgust you? You wound me, this is the results of your betrayal, I thought you would enjoy looking considering how you _abandoned_ me to die on that bridge. Alone, dying a slow death.” The Shade mused “You traded me for that elven woman. Casted me aside like a broken toy. Was that all I was to you? A tool?” Talion- _It_ growled, and leaned forward until Celebrimbor could see those evil eyes through his peripherals. They seemed to glow with fury, so passionately Celebrimbor froze by the familiarity. Just for a second, he doubted himself.

“I-...” Celebrimbor choked. _No, Talion_ , he thought “You- _He_ stood in my way!” Celebrimbor renewed his struggling “Release me, Shade! Talion is dead. He” Celebrimbor swung his glare to Sauron, who stood by, watching with clear amusement “is free of you, Sauron!”

Sauron only tipped his head back, laughing **“The Ranger hunts for you, Celebrimbor. He refused to die because of your betrayal! Even now, he falls for the Ring’s persuasions. That man has fallen from grace.”** Sauron shook his head **“He is so determined for you. I don’t know to what end he seeks you- I am not sure he himself knows his reasons. But…”** Sauron gestured to the Shade still draped across Celebrimbor **“He will join the Nine, just as you will fall to me. Both your resolves shall crumble under the inevitability.”**

The false Talion released one of Celebrimbor’s arms, quick to transfer his grip of one hand to both arms and keeping the Wraith restrained. Impossibly, Celebrimbor still found himself unable to break away. The Shade’s now free hand came to rest against Celebrimbor’s cheek, like a gentle threat. Celebrimbor bent away from the touch, as far as he was physically able, yet he could not dislodge the Shade’s cold touch. Gooseflesh erupted across his skin, and Celebrimbor forced himself to bare the touch stoically. Sauron intended to unsettle him- it was working but Celebrimbor refused to show just how much it was.

However, seeing the amused gleam in Sauron’s eye and cruel curl of his lip, Celebrimbor thought he might have failed in that.

“Prepare yourself, Wraith.” The Shade at his back puffed, a mockery of warning given too late as burning erupted from his hand, glowing with a sickly orange laced green fire. Celebrimbor’s eyes slammed shut, and a high pitched keen whistled between clenched teeth as the agony from before weave into his being lazily.

Then it simply became too much, and Celebrimbor shouted, convulsing as the pain grew more intense. The draining of his energy increased, so much that Celebrimbor slumped forward, only kept from collapsing by the grip of the Shade.

Like a thorned ribbon, something- _a bond,_ Celebrimbor realized, somewhere under the pain- snapped into place alongside the first. When it had, Talion’s hand left, leaving Celebrimbor’s head to lull to the side without support.

Celebrimbor stopped convulsing slowly, shivering violently as he recovered from the attack. It took colossal effort for the Wraith to form words. “Wh-what.. Have you- done to.. Me?”

“Ensuring your defeat, Celebrimbor.” The Shade said, finally releasing Celebrimbor. He stood, watching impassively as Celebrimbor only just barely caught himself from collapsing completely “My Lord wishes to make your defeat sound and slow. It is by his will that you still remain existing.”

Sauron stepped forward, waving his hand dismissively as he approached. The Shade bowed its head, and turned, quickly swallowed by the swirling walls of the nebulus world. Celebrimbor struggled to his feet, ungraceful in his pain and aftershocks of the attack. Formless mist rose from his hands, as Celebrimbor struggled to summon a weapon in defense. **“You are bound to me, Celebrimbor.”** Sauron murmured, and began to circle the Wraith **“Twice over you are tied, and with every link I make you weaken further. And I strengthen. You will fade away, only to be remembered by myself and an undead Ranger. Except, he too shall be forgotten. Your Talion.”** Sauron wove an image into the air, displaying Talion as he’d been only for it to shimmer into the Talion had held Celebrimbor down. A final shimmer showed the image evolving into a Nazgúl, faceless and easily lost among the group of Nine. Just another servant of the Dark Lord, lost and forgotten. **“This is the fate you have cursed yourself with. This is the fate you have brought Talion of The Black Gate to.”**

“I will never bow to you, _ Perdelos. _ ” Celebrimbor spat. In his chest, it felt as if his heart struggled to beat. His limbs felt heavier by the second, and his vision spotted with black snowflakes. He was failing- after all this time refusing defeat, Celebrimbor was _failing._ The doubt awoke an animalistic urge to run, to fight and resist, to only die from exhaustion and not because he _gave up_.

Heat condensed in his hand, and like the birth of a star a sword summoned into existence. Celebrimbor jumped, looking down in shock as he realized _what_ he held.

“Urfael...” Celebrimbor turned the sword in hand, feeling the familiar grip of the hilt and equally familiar balance of the blade. It suddenly felt as if Talion were there with him, as if Talion were next to Celebrimbor, lending his sword and strength and saying to him ‘ _Not yet, hold on Celebrimbor.’_

Laughing.

Looking up, Celebrimbor watched quizzically as Sauron seemed to lose himself in hilarity. **“Oh, how far you fall, Celebrimbor! You cannot even draw strength from yourself as you rally!”** Sauron smiled maliciously, **“You rely upon the very man who you betrayed, as if you’d not lost the right to do so!”** Sauron controlled himself, and once again, his mace burned into existence **“Truly, I had never thought to see you brought so low, old friend. Let's test that blade, and see how long it lasts.”**

Celebrimbor tightened his grip, and for just a moment gathered himself. From Urfael, he imagined feeling the blade sing for him, calling for the dark Maiar’s blood and ready to do hard battle.

Resolve hardening, Celebrimbor shifted his weight. Paused. “It will outlast you.” He growled, more sure than anything else since he’d entered this place. Sauron quirked an eyebrow.

**“So much faith… Even brought low, you find something to be stubborn in.”**

Celebrimbor leapt, and with a burst of speed swept up to Sauron’s side. Urfael split the air, swinging with a trail of blue light to draw a score down Sauron’s front. Celebrimbor smiled in grim satisfaction, catching the minuscule widening of his foe’s eyes just before Sauron knocked his blade away, forcing Celebrimbor’s guard to open as his arm went wide. 

Celebrimbor turn away, the air whistling as the mace narrowly missed his stomach, with a quick back step and turn, Celebrimbor drew a tight circle around to Sauron’s back before the Dark Lord could recover, and with a twist of his arm the Wraith thrust forward.

Sauron’s image wavered, unstable and smoky as the blade impaled him from back to front just before he disappeared completely. Celebrimbor pulled back quickly, closing his guard. Warily he waited, then watched a Sauron reappeared with a burst of light. Sauron straightened, tilting his head as he regarded Celebrimbor with mild bemusement.

 **“You truly find strength in an undead man’s sword, don’t you.”** Sauron murmured, blocking a strike as Celebrimbor rushed him again. Like a dancer, Sauron wove around every attack, interested gleam in his eye growing as his clothes became nicked more and more at every attack. **“Perhaps this will become interesting.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, I calculated how long Talion and Celebrimbor are fighting in Mordor respectively from when they died to when the One Ring was destroyed. Eregion fell in SA 1967, which is also the year Celebrimbor dies. The Second Age ends in the year 3441, resetting the years. Talion dies in the Disaster of The Morannon in TA 1944. The One Ring is destroyed in TA 3019. That means Talion was fighting in Mordor for 1075 years, and Celebrimbor was fighting for 4673 years. I think the game developers undershot when they said 'between The Hobbit an Lord of The Rings'. Talion was alive before Erebor's founding!
> 
> (I recommend this website for the timeline) http://lotrproject.com/timeline/#zoom=4&lat=-1297.5&lon=1334.5&layers=BTT
> 
> On a different note, I'm sorry how long it took to post this chapter! I've been writing at an insane pace and took a break before I burned myself out. This is going to be a _long_ ride, best pace myself.


	4. When She Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> **[CHAPTER WARNINGS] ******
> 
> Explicitly Written Severe Panic Attack

When the Visions came to her, Shelob often had to decide whether what she had seen was something she would act upon, or allow to play out.

When it came to the Wraith and his human puppet, she’d seen the destruction of Middle-Earth, crushed underfoot with the Banner of the Bright Lord waving high overhead.

Shelob was undeniably a dark creature, hated by the fair races and her brood hunted down indiscriminately. However, she’d lived in Mordor as long as the Dark Lord, and did not wish to live under tyranny anymore than her enemies. What she wanted was simple- a place to rest, safe and largely left alone to care for her children with only a few uruk Thralls perhaps to serve her needs.

Celebrimbor would not have given her that. So she had manipulated their paths, sending them to their mutual destructions with no sympathy for the Wraith, and a detached sort of sadness for the Ranger.

Talion had not asked for his fate, after all. It was Celebrimbor that had damned the man. Shelob was innately dark, but she was also a mother to many. Talion’s fate was unusually cruel, a pawn of many battles, passed between and fought over by many players. She pitied him for it. That did not change her intentions to use him all the same.

So when Shelob had revived Talion from certain death and coaxed the dying resolve back to a roar, Shelob had intended for Talion to remain standing as the single force between the Enemy and Middle-Earth. Her visions gave her foresight, and in them, she saw the Ranger resist and do battle for decades, then centuries, until finally the man grew weary and break under his scars and exhaustion. He would join the Nine, Faceless and Forgotten, but having served his purpose in pushing back Mordor for centuries, buying time for Middle-Earth, who would never know about Talion of the Black Gate who’d sacrificed everything for them.

It was as her Sight had shown her. So, Shelob had acted upon it. She had not accounted for that dismissable kernel of potential for darker things in the man. It had been so tiny, something so easily pushed aside and overwhelmed. Like an ant, jealously hoarding the single crumb that might save its queen from starvation. Perhaps she should have, knowing that Talion _had_ acted upon it before. It had been the very thing that made Talion trade the stunningly powerful New Ring for a bitter, centuries-old Wraith.

Perhaps because she had not was why Shelob had awoken from her newest vision numb in shock not a fortnight after Celebrimbor’s defeat.

Shelob called for one of her swiftest children, whispered it a stern message to carry and sent her off. Her child was smart and would pass it on even without a common language.

“I hope I am not too late,” Shelob murmured, tending her webs absently “Else he will be lost to reason completely.”

**XXX**

Talion struggled with himself more, as the days passed.

A haze had begun to take him over, a thirst for battle like an incurable disease eating him away. With every battle Talion entered, the itch did not lessen but only worsened. It was becoming harder for him to keep his sword sheathed, harder not to attack every large group of uruk he came across. Harder for him keep sense when he was in battle. Sometimes, he didn’t and would come back to himself surrounded by slaughter.

Especially the larger groups. As Talion swept through Minas Morgul again and again in search of information, the uruks had begun banding together. Just as worms and captains became rarities, so did the occasional pair or trooping five of warriors. Now they traveled, close and nervous like wary herds of deer in numbers as many as twenty.

It was the groups of thirty or forty that would have a worm or two. Isildur’s Ring urged Talion to do a full frontal charge, and slaughter the platoons. The Ranger would hum Ioreth’s Song to drown out the temptations, perhaps tap his fingers harshly against a surface for a grounding spark of pain, and remind himself firmly of his goals; all to just ignore the intoxicating pull.

Some days, it was as if the only thing that kept Talion tied to reality was Celebrimbor.

The Demon of Minas Morgul, War Devil, The Ghost Hunter- many names began to rise in the city. They were cries, screams that signalled Talion’s decent. They invoked fear and trepidation, but none as fiercely as _Gravewalker_.

Had Talion the mind to spare, or the humor to muster he would have laughed. The title was becoming so feared it was hardly called; as if an Uruk said it Talion would be summoned. It was only said when he was seen; as a plea or an alarm.

However, Talion didn’t have any to spare. He hunted with single-minded efficiency and brutality.

He had only just begun considering moving his efforts to a different region when a spider approached him.

“Hello, little one.” Talion murmured, offering a hand for the spider to jump to. The arachnid took it, clinging to the Ranger’s limb as he straightened, raising his hand until she was level with his face. “What are you doing, so far from the nest?”

Shelob’s child chittered, her mandibles shivering. She clicked in her language, twirling her legs and gesturing wildly much to Talion’s confusion.

(‘ _The spider brings a message’)_ Isildur’s Ring murmured (‘ _From the Mother. Shelob calls for your presence in her lair.’)_

Talion frowned, and the spider chittered again before settling. “Did Shelob say what reason she needs me?”

There was a very exaggerated motion, a full body sway from side to side in a vague mimicry of a head shake.

Talion held a sigh “I suppose she wants me immediately?” This time, the spider hopped and spun, waving her legs and making it incredibly obvious that yes, Shelob wanted Talion to come _immediately_.

Talion crouched, gently putting the spider down “Go to her and tell her I am coming. I shall see her in two days.” The spider clicked her mandibles loudly and spun in a circle before she skittered away, quickly lost in the shadows.

( _‘You would go to her, the Spider who sealed your fate?’)_

“She has never failed in any tasks she had deemed important.” Talion answered absently “Shelob does not call for me without reason.”

( _‘Shelob the Webweaver, Fate-Sealer, Manipulator. Had she not interfered perhaps you would be happy in death.’)_ Isildur’s Ring hissed (‘ _Compared to Celebrimbor, she is the true betrayer.’)_

Talion shook his head, feeling oddly amused by the Ring’s poor attempts of turning him against Shelob. “She is wise.” Talion retorted simply.

The Ring rumbled unpleasantly, inspiring an all too familiar throb in Talion’s head. Talion grimaced, before summoning a caragor. His power lashed out, wave-like over the area, and found it’s target quickly. By the time Talion turned, a dominated dire caragor lumbered to him, eyes blazing an emerald green.

Swinging onto it’s back, Talion summoned Aeglos and kicked his heels, spurring the caragor forward into a run.

There would be a mountain to cross, between Minas Morgul and Cirith Ungol with no doubt many fights the entire way. Ephal Duarth, the Shadow Mountains where Shelob had made her home and hunting grounds. Talion only knew of one entrance safe for him to enter, for any others he would lose himself to the labyrinth the Great Spider had designed exactly for that, and it was on the other side. He would also not be the only one using the Pass.

 _Celebrimbor,_ Talion thought _No matter how strong the Battle-fever, I must continue._

“This will be a difficult journey.” Talion muttered, and focused on the sound of wind rushing by his ears. If he kept moving, then perhaps the discomfort of silence would not reach him; the absence within his body ever roaringly wrong, and always Talion needed to distract himself from it lest it consumed him in ways the urge for bloodbath did not. Now, with the sound of snapping foliage, the steady thudding of heavy paws and the panting of the caragor, there was just enough for Talion to focus on so that the vibrating _loneliness_ hurt less.

He’d adjusted to the fine tremors of his hands, the fluctuating migraines and conflicting urges. He would adjust to this just the same.

“Not for long,” Talion said, aloud as he often did when stealth was not important “Just long enough to get by.” He would only suffer as long as he needed to, then it would no longer matter because he will have gotten Celebrimbor back.

First, however before that happened, he must find out what Shelob called him for. Talion had gotten the impression last they spoke that they would never see each other again, so this had been a surprise. Then, Talion would continue his hunt in the other regions and would not cease until he found his Ring. It would only be a battle of dominance after that, one Talion was determined to win. Once perhaps, the thought of a direct confrontation with the singularly most feared Warlord in all of Middle-Earth would have made Talion blanch, but now…

Well, it was not just time that was changing, that much was dramatically obvious. Who knew what would become of Talion when he finally did pass into death.

“I wonder if I would be allowed into the Halls of my Forefathers, after.” Talion mused, voice bitter and blown away by the wind “I may just as well be banished to be forgotten.” Finally, Talion just shook his head. _It didn’t matter,_  he reminded himself. Death had yet to embrace him, and would not for some time.

It did not take long to reach the Pass and the uruks who used it.

“Ranger!”

Talion’s eyes slid closed unbidden, steeling himself as his caragor was forced to stop. Already, the haze for battle was creeping into his sense, the urge to drown the ground in blood strong as the Battle-fever reared with possibility.

“Had enough of Minas Morgul then?” The captain sneered, and Talion noticed the large shield he carried. A Defender. “I suppose you ran out of uruk to slaughter! You’ve been as effective as a plague, killing whatever moved. I’m almost impressed! However, I have orders that no Tark passes through, and I ain’t going to let an over-confident deadman make me fail enforcing them!”

( _‘Ûshgol the Poisoner.’)_ Isildur’s Ring named ( _‘Named for his halberd’s deadly coating, which is known to incapacitate even Graugs due to the strength.’)_

Talion noticed the polearm almost as soon as the Ring informed him. He was no stranger to poisoned weapons, but this halberd nearly seemed alive by the cloud that wafted from it. It almost seemed to breathe with malice.

“Just don’t get cut, then.” Talion muttered, and spurred his mount into action.

**XXX**

Talion came back to himself with destruction surrounding him.

Talion blinked sluggishly, looking around blurrily and he fought to reawaken from the haze that had robbed him of his sense. This had not been the first occurrence, but every instance always left Talion feeling distinctly exhausted. It was the only thing in fact that made Talion feel such a mortal trait anymore.

Just for a moment, Talion forgot himself in that exhaustion. “What happened, Celebrimbor?” he rasped.

( _‘Three uruk-hai captains and the entire camp fell to your blade.’)_ Isildur’s Ring purred, and Talion flinched. He was suddenly much more aware of himself.

Talion cursed, looking around to take in the utter decimation he’d wrought. He’d lost himself to the Battle-fever, the evidence surrounding him made it more than clear. A chill went down his spine; this is what he was capable of. This is what the _Ring_ has made him capable of. “Did any escape?” Talion murmured, and felt as if his organs shrunk into themselves as Isildur’s Ring hummed in pleasure. A definite no.

“What have I done.”

( _‘This is your becoming, Talion. Do not fear it, embrace it.’_ )

“This is my fall.” Talion argued, eyes spotting Urfael not too far from him. It was embedded into an uruk corpse’s head. With how low the hilt rose from the ground, Talion was sure a half a foot of the blade was speared through the ground. “If this is my becoming, it is my becoming a monster.” Talion, in attempting to grab and yank his sword from its place, nearly stumbled when his hand unexpected slipped. The Ranger swallowed, realizing that his hands were slick with blood. Then he closed his eyes as he finally registered a burning in his knuckles, elbows and even his knees.

Once again, it seemed as if Talion had forgone his blade in his mindless rage and had resorted to using his bare hands to tear apart his enemies like a taunted caragor. As unwelcomingly common his episodes of enragement were becoming, Talion wished the signs of his… animalistic reversion was not equally common. Losing his senses at any provoke was already too much, but it now it seemed as if his humanity was quickly being lost as well.

Talion swallowed back the urge to completely expel his stomach- not that there would be anything _to_ expel but bile as he’d not eaten anything for weeks- and used his cloak to wipe away the worst of the blood before he attempted to regain his sword. This time, Urfael came free with only slight effort with disgusting squelching sounds chasing its withdrawal.

Talion cleaned the blade as best he could, grimacing as he scraped away coagulating blood and flicked away the globs of brain matter. Seeing how his blade still flaked with dirt, Talion realized he would have to find water to properly clean it.

Suddenly thankful for his open scabbard, Talion sheathed Urfael. Perhaps a detour to a nearby stream would do Talion some good. He needed to get away from the blood and gruel, if not just for a moment. He needed to do maintenance for his weapons and armor anyways. They had been spelled to always remain battle ready, a blessing from Celebrimbor else Urfael and Acharn would have failed long ago. The blades would have been bitten dull and rendered little more useful than unusual clubs if they did not shatter before that. Talion hardly had access to the proper materials to treat them right, yet they handled as beautifully as if they were freshly forged and yet to see a battle.

That did not discount the blood and dirt that would coat their surfaces, caking a lethal edge until it might as well have been dull anyways. Talion had always maintained a strict ritual that whenever the chance he would properly wash away what would not be wiped away, and for his armor, use a mallet or a rock if nothing else to hammer out the dents and little pits every battle would leave behind. Celebrimbor had never discouraged Talion, the smith going so far as to assist in whatever was within his power. Hence the spelling.

Talion wondered now if Celebrimbor had done it because of the scarcity of resources, because he was a smith and therefore was inclined to maintain what was crafted, or because it meant Talion was less likely to fall in battle because of equipment failure; therefore delaying their mission. It very well could have been all three- Celebrimbor had been endearingly layered like that in his reasonings, as blunt of an elf he’d been. Talion had been one of many to think Celebrimbor initially was a singularly driven being, but the complexity in his motivations suggested anything but that. As shocking as a warhammer, and as effective as a misericorde Talion often thought.

Talion froze at the thoughts of Celebrimbor, abruptly reminded of the harsh absence of him. The ignored silence suddenly seemed to roar to life, the gap in Talion’s body gaping and it was just all _wrong it was wrong!_

Talion sucked in a breath, rigid and pained. The silence clawed at Talion, a different kind of consumption to Talion’s sense, as black and not red ate away his vision. His chest- _empty, too empty where was Celebrimbor?!-_ felt expanded, tightly pack as if it were trying to fill the spaces, yet so compact Talion found himself unable to breathe.

The world swayed, and Talion found himself powerless to center himself.

A roaring filled his head, like a dying beast’s last defiance that rang through his ears, deafening Talion. For once, the fire in his blood, the hellish Battle-fever that had plagued Talion was flushed away, replaced by a desperate _need_.

“Cele-” Talion choked, clutching at his throat and coughing as it felt as if a stone had formed with the sole purpose to suffocate him. “Wraith!” Talion rasped, curling into himself as he pleaded, nearly wordless.

The thoughts came, breaking upon Talion and sweeping him away from reality.

_Oh Eru, am I dying?!_

_No, no I can’t die, not yet, not after so much!_

_Celebrimbor left me. Ioreth, where-_

_I’m falling, falling fallingfalling no one can catch me someone help-_

_Monster I am not a man maybe I should die, honorless forgotten-_

_No one will know I will be forgotten-_

_I can’t die! He needs my help!_

_He? Who is He who do I need to save? Who-_

_A star, shining and bright He is winter and cold but He saved me_

_He betrayed me, He hurt me, Him, I need Him, I need to help Him_

_Hunted, I’m feared, Nazgúl not man, I’m fallen-_

_Save, I can’t be saved how can I save someone else if I can’t be helped-_

Talion was sure he was dying. Trapped in the maelstrom of his body, frozen in eternity he was sure he would die. Death found him many times only to turn him away, but he knew death. He had died so many times and never did it stick.

Maybe this was the one time that it would? Collapsed under his own fears like a half arch, weak and abandoned? Left behind because he was _broken_ and there were _better_ materials than him- just a man, just a Ranger who couldn’t let go. Was it because he was weak?

_He had to be stopped, I couldn’t let him destroy himself-_

_She showed me, I didn’t listen fool I was a fool how could I fall for-_

_Him, He left He betrayed me I thought He would see reason_

_He was taken I need to take Him back I can’t let Him suffer-_

_Like this I am going to die like this no one will care_

_Maybe a caragor will eat my body? I’ll be useful then, feeding nature-_

_Useless useless I’mdyingIcan’t- Useless why can’t I help myself?!_

Talion couldn’t do anything. Maybe he’d already died and this was his fate. Died and cast into the Outer Void. Maybe that's why he couldn’t see, couldn’t breath and his heart beating a hummingbird’s tempo- his only companions would be Morgoth and his ilk until the world would be remade.

He was doomed, Talion was doomed and doomed to be alone. Never will he escape this blackness, maybe he should just give up and be torn apart by the forces- he felt so tired he couldn’t fight anymore.

Talion sobbed, shivering and choking, hoping the agony would end yet felt as if it never would.

Eventually, though Talion wasn’t sure how long, he came back to himself. It was a slow drag, not unlike climbing a mountain, back to sense and reality.

First came the sense of his heart; beating so rapidly it was as if it were trying to pound straight out of his chest. Then his lungs, aching fiercely in their super-expanded states, reminding Talion to release the breath he’d inadvertently kept hold of and suck in much needed air. The chill of the air nipped at his soaked skin, and sluggishly Talion groaned, realizing he’d sweated enough to soak his clothing, feeling how his tunic and trousers clung uncomfortably to him, worsened only by how his armor pressed his clothing close to his body like a second skin. The shaking was expected, as well as the weakness of his limbs; it all rather made Talion feel like a minutes old fawn, still wet from the womb and terrified by the new world.

Though he wasn’t sure when it had happened, at some point, Talion had collapsed to his knees. Too exhausted to even try standing, Talion levered himself to his side, ignoring the sting of his throat, hurting on the outside and in from various abuses. He curled, fetal position and grateful for the foliage that covered him from view of the path he’d stumbled away from. He could still see it, at least two arm lengths away from where he laid, but the ferns and ivy seemed to enclose around him. Sickly as the plants were, they were hardy and thick, Mordor bred and true. It would take a warg or caragor’s keen nose or ears to find him.

Small blessings, and Talion muttered a prayer of thanks to Carnán for it. Her domain might not have included Ephal Duarth or its Pass, but the plants and nature were her’s to rule. Whether or not these particular one were was an insignificant detail Talion had no energy to spare for. He was simply grateful for it.

Talion pulled his cloak tightly to his body, curled into himself until he could tighten no more and promptly lost conscience.

**XXX**

“Why do you stay, Talion?”

Talion frowned, looking up from the reports on his desk. They were scratchy things, words sometimes near indecipherable and scrawling, as what should be expected by orc writing, but they had become important for Talion’s continued keeping of his various fortresses. As hellish as uruk and olog could be, they needed to be fed and led properly lest problems arose where Talion least needed them. The reports were numerous and made Talion often question if this was some convoluted way of assassinating him- death by paper. Now that would be a true embarrassment.

“I am asking myself the same question. Have you read these reports?” Talion waved one such offender “Gorgoroth has somehow lost their main host of hunters to a graug- and now they’re struggling for food! I suppose I could order a shipment of grog from Núrnen, they always seem to have a surplus with the cook practically _living_ in his kitchen....” Talion trailed off, considering it. Yes, he could do that, but how would he do it? Caragors could pull carts well enough, though it took a strong Tamer to keep them in check, and drakes were unpredictable at best and downright uncontrollable at worst- they were the fastest, but Talion would have to personally deliver the supplies if drakes were used and he just did not have the time for it. Graugs he didn’t even consider- they were strong but slow beasts and were likely to eat the food themselves.

“I mean with me, Talion. In Mordor.” Celebrimbor interrupted, gently taking away the packet from Talion and glancing it over with a frown before shaking his head and putting it down “I could release you.” he gestured around them “From me, from this war. Now with the New Ring, I have enough power to continue this alone. It would not be fair of me to keep you any longer from your family.”

Talion frowned, slowly sitting back as he considered the Wraith. This was… odd. Celebrimbor almost seemed, tired to him. The way the Wraith stood, hip propped by the desk and sullenly staring at the mess of reports on it like they held secrets. It was how Celebrimbor had been all day, unusually quiet and distant in thought. Since they had made the New Ring, it was almost as if Celebrimbor had been set afire with the urgency that progressively consumed him. Sometimes, it made Talion nervous, especially the increasing lack of compassion the Wraith showed as time went, forcing Talion to constantly argue with his companion and friend. “Is this what you’ve been worried about today, Celebrimbor?” Talion inquired gently, shifting in his seat to fully face the other “You’ve been so distracted.”

“Yes, I suppose I have been distracted.” Celebrimbor acknowledged. The Wraith frowned, shifting his weight and kept his silence for a moment. Talion watched, noting the small details that he’d missed since the madness had begun. Now that he thought about it, Celebrimbor visibly was worse for wear, the Wraith was even gaunter than when they had met. Hair more flaxen and thin, eyes almost brightened with a fever-like light and Celebrimbor’s glow almost appeared washed out and dimmed. It was hardly different from when they had run about Udon in their mad search for the Black Hand, but Talion felt entitled to think that if anyone would notice a change in Celebrimbor, it would be him.

“Celebrimbor, have you been feeling well?” Talion asked. Celebrimbor hummed, blinking at the question.

“Yes? Why do you ask, Talion?”

“It's just… You’ve begun to look tired, my friend. Would I that I could I show give you a mirror to see yourself. Perhaps you need to rest.” Talion stood, gesturing to the cot in the corner of the room. It was Talion’s, and while it was no luxurious bed, it had been a pleasure to have found the room. The uruk-hai, orcs and olog hardly found need for beds; they enjoyed comfort just the same as Talion, but this room had been so far removed that it was little use to them. Whenever Talion found himself in Seregost, he found himself thankful for the warg furs that kept him warm even if he felt the cold significantly less than any normal man would.

Celebrimbor shook his head “You know that I cannot, and I appreciate your concern Talion, but you have not answered my question.”

“That’s because I can’t leave you to fight Sauron alone, Celebrimbor.” Talion chastised. He frowned “I thought my reasons were obvious enough?”

“No, they are not.” Celebrimbor snapped “Sauron is my enemy, and I swore that I would spend an eternity if I had to, to see him defeated. The Black Hand is dead, your family is avenged and we’ve forged the New Ring. There is no reason for you to continue lingering in Mordor where no peace will be found!”

“And leave you alone to fight this war? Celebrimbor, you’ve told me how long you have been haunting Mordor- what happens if it is another three-thousand before Sauron is defeated?” Talion stood, and went to stand face to face with the elf “Celebrimbor, what is this about?”

“It is not fair to you for me to keep you here any longer.” Celebrimbor hissed “You have done more than enough for Middle-Earth already, they and I cannot ask more of you.”

Talion knew the bluntness would hurt, but Celebrimbor practically asked for it “And you cared about fairness when you possessed me for the first time, keeping me locked in undeath at your leisure for countless years?”

Celebrimbor growled, pushing himself away from the desk and skirted around Talion to pace to floor. Talion turned, taking Celebrimbor’s place and crossing his arms as he watched. At the edge of his perception, he could sense just how agitated Celebrimbor was- like a storm singing over a raging ocean. The instruments of the Wraith’s Soul Song had been crooning as of late, but now they were alive with nervous activity. Talion had left it alone at first, but now he couldn’t.

“Celebrimbor…”

“I know it was wrong of me.” Celebrimbor glowered “But I won’t apologize for it after all that we managed to do. Together as the Bright Lord we have halted Mordor’s advances, but now I can continue on alone. Your family waits for you, Talion.” The Wraith suddenly looked incredibly weary, “They would be missing you.”

Talion dropped his arms from where they had rested crossed at his chest “Together, Celebrimbor. We did this _together_. The New Ring is powerful, but no Ring is infallible. You proved that well enough when you stole the One Ring for a time. What happens if I left, and the Ring was taken? No one could reach you, or would want to! Shelob hates you, Carnán I am sure would rather find your bones and use them as fertilizer then talk, and none in our army can see you!”

Talion walked, halting Celebrimbor’s pacing when he grabbed the Wraith’s arm “I do not know where this is coming from, but I will not leave.”

“Don’t you miss them?”

“Every day. It's been a decade or more and sometimes I still wake up and cry for them, you know that. But I can’t just leave because I want to.”

“You could.” Celebrimbor muttered.

“But you can’t,” Talion drew the Wraith closer “I stay for many reasons, Celebrimbor. For Middle-Earth, for our army, to see Sauron’s destruction, but I also will not leave you to suffer any more years alone as you had been. No one should be alone in a war like this.”

“I don’t want your pity.” Celebrimbor snarled, pulling away from Talion angrily “I have been here for thousands of years, and I will continue to be. I did it alone, do not presume that you are so special as to change that!”

“It's not pity, Celebrimbor.” Talion calmed, though irritation rose at Celebrimbor’s accusations. How could the Wraith say such things? They were so close that in some ways Talion wondered if they had not begun to blur into one being- they could complete each other's thoughts, say threats and speeches with exact infliction and perform flawless actions in the heat of battle. In their situation, it was impossible not to come to know the other and each other's quirks. So how was it that Celebrimbor seemed to fail in realizing that Talion did not _pity_ him? “Celebrimbor, I _admire_ you and what you have triumphed over, but I will stand by my belief that no one should be alone in war.”

Celebrimbor seemed to deflate at that, and he went when Talion guided him to the cot where he sat heavily. “I just feel you should leave, Talion.” Celebrimbor murmured “I feel plagued by an urgency as of late. Something is coming, and I fear it. Out of the both of us, at least you can escape it.”

Talion frowned, sitting by the Wraith’s side as he took those words in “Do you know what is causing it?” Celebrimbor shook his head “Then I will stay.” Talion decided, though he’d never thought otherwise.

“I do not want you to stay on my account.” Celebrimbor murmured.

“I won’t. Not completely, anyways.”

Celebrimbor sighs, glancing at Talion from the corner of his eye “It will feel like every year is a decade, Talion. An Age might pass into the next before we see Sauron’s defeat.”

Talion nodded, understanding the warning well enough. The decades that he’d already experienced had been torturously dragging things, but Talion for all of his battle weariness couldn’t consider laying down his sword just yet.

Especially when he knew Celebrimbor couldn’t. Talion might be tired, but Celebrimbor was exhausted despite all of the drive he boasted. Talion refused to think of the cruelty it would be if one day he told Celebrimbor to let him die for good.

“Rest, Celebrimbor.” Talion urged “I can take care of our army for a few days without your hovering.”

Celebrimbor nodded and laid in the space Talion opened when he stood. When Celebrimbor’s eyes closed, Talion’s opened.

Talion bolted straight, wheezing as he awoke harshly.

Talion blink, confused as he looked around. This was not where he’d lost consciousness. Instead of the bush he’d last seen, cobwebbed stone walls surrounded him, the webbing like delicate drapery from the ceiling to the floor. Talion glanced down, and found himself partially buried under pelts; brown warg and black caragath furs keeping him warm from the chill of the underground. Talion brushed his hand over them, feeling the unusual softness of the undercoat under the guard hairs, and focused on calming his heart.

What happened? Where was he?

Suddenly, Talion sensed movement in the shadows. Reflexively, Talion’s hand went for Urfael’s hilt, only to find empty air. Talion jerked, looking over his shoulder for his weapons only to find his sword and Acharn both missing.

So was his cloak and armor. In fact, as Talion glanced down to confirm, he realized that he was not wearing anything he’d been wearing before. Not even his under clothing, which he remembered being slick with sweat, were still on his person. Instead, a loose tunic and trousers of some unidentifiable black cloth clothed him.

“Talion.”

The Ranger relaxed somewhat at the familiar voice, watching as Shelob glided from the shadows, soundless and graceful.

“Shelob.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I haven't posted in a while! With finals coming down on all student heads, its been a difficult time indeed! Anyways, thank you all for the wonderful comments and kudos! I've never gotten so much feedback on my works, and I must say I understand why writers always called them a huge source of motivation. 
> 
> On a different note, things are finally going to start picking up story wise- we are finally out of Minas Morgul! Any theories as to what Shelob wants to say to Talion?


	5. Spider's Sanctum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **[CHAPTER WARNINGS] ******
> 
> Dubcon Drugging
> 
> Shelob

“How did you find me, Shelob? Talion questioned, watching as the Spider drifted through the room, more like smoke than an arachnid, trailing her hands delicately down the sheets of webbing as she came closer to where the Ranger sat. “I was still at least a day’s journey away from here.”

“My home is vast,” Shelob explained “and I can smell prey from any distance in it. There are many entrances, large and small throughout these mountains. One of my children found you outside one of the smallest. Imagine my surprise that when I went to retrieve you, I found you in the fits of nightmares and a bloodbath further down the path.”

“Not a nightmare,” Talion corrected, rubbing his eyes as he felt a wave of exhaustion “maybe, I only remember a memory though. There are many fears I could have dreamed before it.”

Shelob considered the man, tilting her head at him “A memory?” She prompted, sounding as if it wasn’t of particular concern to her as she deftly weaved the threads of a nearby web.

Talion, for a moment, considered saying nothing to the Spider. It was only for a moment however- Shelob had never failed in provided sound counsel, even if she only ever gave it for her own gains. Talion found himself just tired enough to take the offer. “It was not long before Barad-dûr, Celebrimbor and I were in Seregost; I was reading through reports, trying to get all the fortresses prepared for war.” Talion’s mind drifted a little as he recounted all that he remembered “Celebrimbor had been restless that day, and the day before now that I think of it.”

“Restless,” Shelob turned the web to work on the other side.

“I remember how his Song gradually-”

“Song?” Shelob blinked, interrupting Talion “What do you mean by ‘his Song’?”

The Ranger shifted uncomfortably. Soul Songs were… well, Talion at least thought they were private matters. Something deeply personal; it took direct contact between souls at least to hear them- or at least that's how Talion had always rationalized it for himself anyways. He had never even talked to  _ Celebrimbor _ about it.

“Soul Song, that's what I call it. I’m not sure when I thought of the term, it just always  _ was _ in my mind. It's like… With Celebrimbor, I could always hear his emotions in my mind. It wasn’t ever distracting, but more of background music?” Talion struggled for words “Except it's not exactly music. There were no instruments in the conventional sense. It's like you hear the forces of nature, and just by watching them you simply  _ know. _ I had never encountered or heard of anything like it before Celebrimbor possessed me. It caused a certain level of trust for me in Celebrimbor. It's hard to lie to someone who can hear if you're nervous.” Talion huffed, before shaking his head, realizing he’d gotten distracted from the original question.

“That sounds remarkably like a Soul  _ Bond _ , Talion.” Shelob remarked, releasing her work to sit by Talion’s side. She remained a respectable distance, though her unerring stare made Talion shift uncomfortably. He plucked at the furs on his lap, mentally squashing the urge to growl. “I have never heard of the phenomenon being compared to a song, but it rings with elegance at least. Had you and Celebrimbor ever talked about this?”

“Never. At first it wasn’t important, then there simply wasn’t enough time, then Celebrimbor had… Well, you made sure I saw the truth about Celebrimbor.”

“A necessary action.” Shelob dismissed “If you and Celebrimbor had never talked about this, then neither of you probably realize the  _ significance _ such a bond brings; or the consequences of one being broken.”

“And you know all about it, I suppose.” Talion grunted

“As much as anyone but the Valar. I have lived since the First Age. Many things happened during the War of Wrath: Bonds made, Bonds broken, alliances that rose and fell, an elf who became Twice-Born.” Shelob mused “Never anything quite like this, but I can make an educated guess.”

Talion grunted again, wondering if the Spider was going to make him wait for the explanation. However, he did not as Shelob immediately continued.

“From what I have seen, bonds bind individuals together in such a way that the relationships between them transcend death in some way or another. Much like an elf or dwarf who Fades. In those cases it usually takes the death of who they love the most; the departure of one soul causes the other to follow. Those bonds were designs by the Valar however, and are entirely conventional and expected.”

“The Wraith and I are anything but.” Talion muttered, absently wondering what became of his armor as he glanced around and did not see it or his weapons.

“No, you were not.” Shelob said, watching the man carefully. “And I think because of these unusual circumstances is what has caused you so much trouble.”

Talion looked back to the Spider, equally incredulous and bemused. “What?”

Shelob sighed, so lightly Talion doubted it was anything but a deeper exhale of breath “What I am saying, Talion, is that when Celebrimbor possessed you, the both of you began to blur. To put in plain words, you were becoming a single being. One being; at least in part.”

Talion jerked “ _ What?! _ ” he barked

“Is it really so shocking?” Shelob frowned, gesturing vaguely “Not only did you and the Wraith work unnaturally well together, the results of your violent separation speak clearly enough that damage was done. You surely have wondered this yourself.”

Talion growled, disliking how the Spider spoke with underlying insult yet could not deny her point. The truth was that he  _ had _ wondered, many times in fact. The speeches, the fighting, finishing each other’s thoughts, the banter. Talion had always dismissed it as being situational, or maybe he and Celebrimbor just naturally worked well together- not because of a  _ bond _ .

Talion closed his eyes, trying to ignore the lurch in his chest, how the gaping pain always seemed to eat away at him. Since that moment on the Bridge, Talion had the world against him- and he was far too certain for comfort that he was slowly going mad; Isildur’s Ring notwithstanding.

“I have.” Talion admitted, ignoring the look of pity Shelob gave him “There was damage. There are days that I do not remember, fights where I use my hands and not my sword, and it feels as if I am drifting through a haze with the world always a step ahead.” Talion laughed, the bitter, ugly sound echoing chillingly through the tunnels of Shelob’s labyrinth “I no longer fear that I am going mad. I know I am.”

Shelob shifted closer to the man, finally closing the distance as she trailed her fingers gently through Talion’s hair. He closed his eyes, allowing the touch. “What have you done to me, Shelob?”

“I injected you with my venom, diluted so to not cause you harm.” Shelob explained, continuing her petting. Talion was honest with himself to admit that he found it soothing. “It was necessary for this conversation. You needed a clear-head.”

“You drugged me.”

“If I hadn’t you would have attempted to kill me.” Talion couldn’t deny that, not with confidence. “Do you see how this dependency on Celebrimbor- something he had only encouraged, has led to your mutual destruction? You survived this, and you know what the Wraith has done and planned to do. Why do you seek him?”

Talion choked on a laugh, rubbing a palm against his mouth even as he leaned subtly into Shelob’s absently-minded petting. After so long going without even a suggestion of friendly contact, Talion found himself starved for it. “It feels like I’ve been torn apart, emotionally, physically and mentally. There's this gaping hole in my chest, and some days I can’t breathe around it right: and I feel terrified of my own body. There isn’t any humming, or storms or  _ anything _ that told me before that I wasn’t alone!” Talion wiped at the tears pricking at his eyes “Sometimes I lose myself in that emptiness, and I feel like I’m dying except its a death I know will be permanent. I forget who I am, I forget about the Ring- I forget everything except I was  _ abandoned _ and that I was left to die  _ alone _ .”

“There is more.” Shelob guessed, and Talion nodded

“Always, always is there more. I haven’t felt pain-free since before the Bridge; my head is constantly pounding, and Isildur’s Ring is always creeping into my memories. I can’t even remember if what I do recall is right anymore, and the uncertainty in my own past makes me fear for my future if I have one. I haven’t rest properly in weeks, sitting for long made me feel as if my body were burning from the inside out and would only keep doing it until I killed something- except that relief only ever worsened the burn. I lose myself in that burning, Shelob.” Talion’s hands were shaking “A bloodred haze takes over everything, and when I return to sense there is nothing alive around me; what is dead was not just killed, they were slaughtered indiscriminately. I can’t even throw up because I haven’t eaten or drank- not even bile anymore. I just dry heave until I can’t or pass out.” Talion found himself unable to keep up with how he was crying- how was there still so much moisture in his body after so long? “The only thing that keeps me going anymore and not going to Carnán to bury my body alive or throwing away the Ring is Celebrimbor.”

“Oh, you poor man.” Shelob murmured, her hand slipping from Talion’s hair to caress the back of his neck, ignoring the shudders that ran through the Ranger’s body “Do you not realize that by making the Wraith your sole focus, you have become obsessed with him? Celebrimbor cannot save you from this.”

“I don’t want him to save me, Shelob.” Talion corrected, slouching under the weight of his sorrows and exhaustion “I need to reclaim him. He was taken from me- if we were Bonded as you say then he truly is mine. Sauron has no claim, and now he tries to destroy what I have left in this world.” Talion’s expression contorted into anger “Celebrimbor is mine, and mine alone.”

Shelob frowned “There are other ways, Talion. Do not tie yourself down to a failing Wraith, especially one who proved his regard of your worth.”

“I can’t, Shelob.” Talion looked away “Sometimes I wish I could, but I can’t. You might be so cold as to be able to eat your own children at your whim, but I can’t… I can’t  _ handle _ this. It’s a wound, infected and festering where it can’t be treated.” The man gripped at his shaking hands, trying to still the trembling. He glared at them through his tears, feeling betrayed by his own body  _ yet again. _ “I haven’t felt whole in months. Celebrimbor has hurt me, but I just  _ can’t _ . I can’t do it.”

Shelob pull the man close, wrapping her thin arms around him in a somewhat stiff embrace. The comforting was obviously strange for Shelob to provide, but Talion hardly noticed as he all but collapsed against her, boneless and weeping.

“You have known nothing but the Wraith since you died at the Black Gate.” Shelob murmured, tilting her head gently against Talion’s “You and he became connected, and now that you’ve been separated you bleed. In loving him- in whatever way you feel you do, you have become obsessed with him.”

Talion closed his eyes, feeling like a glass child in the Spider’s arms, cracked and only just keeping from falling to pieces. “Yes.”

**XXX**

It took considerable time for Talion to regain any semblance of control over his fraying emotions. Shelob; the Valar bless her, did not force Talion to do anything. Instead, she took to pulling the furs around the Ranger’s shoulders, freeing her hands to weave her webbing as she patiently waited. Talion, pressed to her side, watched the hypnotic twists and skillful manipulation of the deceptively strong threads- there was a calm tranquility of Shelob’s task despite how Talion knew Shelob wove a death trap, not decoration.

While it was quiet between the pair, it was not quiet in the tunnels. Shelob had almost immediately begun a deep humming after Talion’s admission, which reverberated like distant thunder- if Talion were to compare the noise to anything, he would call it purring. It kept him calm, distracted from the absence in his soul and banishing silence around them.

“I remember Celebrimbor’s Song becoming agitated.” Talion rasped as he shifted, gently touching a nearby mat of web, marveling at the heavy, silky texture “I’m not completely sure how long before we stormed Barad-dûr- time has blurred in the past decades in ways I think even the elves would lose track of- but we had taken all of the fortresses. It was a time of preparation. Everyone was tense, the animals unruly and fights breaking out. Everyone knew something was going to happen, but Celebrimbor always seemed untouched by such things. Usually.”

Talion studied the web, noticing the tightness of weave in one place and looseness in other in strategic selection “He’d always been pushing for more and more those days. I worried for him, for his callousness and Morgoth driven tunnel vision mostly but also how frantic he seemed to get at times. Being his vessel I rarely got time to breathe before we were off recruiting, hunting or fighting again. But one day, I woke up, and his Song was subdued, nervous and… apprehensive. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I left him be.” Talion shrugged, losing himself in thought “He asked me why I stayed: In Mordor, with him- he brought up Ioreth and Dirhael of course, how they wait for me in the beyond. Celebrimbor even offered to free me, and continue our work alone.”

“You didn’t take it.” Shelob remarked. Talion shook his head.

“I… I couldn’t think of the kind of cruelty it would’ve been if I had asked Celebrimbor to let me truly die. He has been dead for over three-thousand years, alone and plotting against the Enemy. I had a choice, but he didn’t, so I chose to stay. I never even considered otherwise- knowing that we were bonded puts that decision into perspective.”

“A bond of that multitude would affect many things,” The Spider agreed using Talion’s shoulder as a platform to rest her growing web as she continued to work “Together, it would be small actions only; keeping two souls in tune but certainly not affecting individuality or personality. Severing it however; if Celebrimbor still remains existing as you believe, he too most likely suffers like you. Eru designed this world through melody, where it was beautiful and perfect as the very pinnacle of balance. It was because of Melkor’s ambition did imbalance come to be. The Creator corrected it, time and again, resetting an upset balance. But the damage had been done, and Arda was cast into a never-ending war between balance and imbalance.” Shelob considered Talion, and the man raised an eyebrow questioningly “It's not so different from this I suppose. The First Song; you and Celebrimbor were separate and were balanced. The Discord; Celebrimbor’s possession of you, upsetting your individual existences. The Second; the forming of a Soul Bond, therefore achieving balance in each other. Finally, the Second Discord; the severing of that Bond.”

Shelob flicked at an unseen annoyance in her web, and Talion looked down only to see what looked to be a flawless net draped over his shoulder “You seek the Third, Talion. For right now you are in a state of imbalance, without Celebrimbor’s presence to bring it to stability. You can’t go back to the First, and the Second has been lost. All things in Arda are designed to seek balance in the midst of chaos. Perhaps I should not have been so surprised to see what lengths you would be willing to go through.”

“You Saw something.” Talion pulled away, blinking at Shelob in surprise “That’s why you called for me. You Saw something you thought needed to change!”

Distantly, Shelob nodded “I did. Different from what I saw from before.”

“What did you See, Shelob?!” Talion demanded, turning to face the Spider, only just stopping himself from grabbing her as a horribly familiar fire sparked in his veins. He forced himself to calm, closing his eyes and focused on his breathing. After a moment, the fire once again drowned under the venom in Talion’s body. “Your Visions never fail, how could this one?”

“Considering the effects of a severed Soul Bond were probably not accounted for?” Shelob reminded him dryly “There were very many factors that changed the future. Time is fluid when looking to the future. Knowledge leads to change, and change renders knowledge moot. I foresaw one future, and in changing it caused another.” The Spider gestured at Talion “You are the wild horse in these futures. Pardon me if I lose track of your actions occasionally.” Shelob could not have said it any drier, Talion thought, wincing a little. Like sunbaked bone, picked clean and bleached.

“What did you see… before.” Talion asked, wondering to himself whether or not he even wanted to know.

“I saw you. The Eye of Barad-dûr in the distance, flashing as it is at this moment, as you fought a war against Mordor’s forces for the fortresses. Decades passing, yet you always maintained a stalemate, even as the Eight tried their hand in convincing you to join them or decimating your army. I saw how over time you succumbed to the darkness of Isildur’s Ring and the land. In the end, you would have become a Nazgúl, but in resisting them had bought Middle-Earth centuries of time to prepare. I did not See an end, yet I know with certainty one would come.” Shelob gathered her work, delicately rolling the elaborate netting “That is what I Saw before.”

Talion sucked in a sharp breath, taking in the significance of what Shelob had told him. That was… “I am not sure that is a fate I would have preferred or hated more than what I am living.” Talion admitted quietly. There was a chilling sort of inevitability to the fate Shelob described.

“It does not matter. It was not a fortnight after Celebrimbor’s defeat did I See again.” Shelob dismissed.

“And now?”

Shelob frowned “Before I called for you, I Saw a man feared by all of Mordor. His name was lost to the past, and he was little more than a legend of war. A wraith thought to have been a gondorian soldier who’d died in Minas Morgul that, in seeking vengeance for his slaughtered people, crossed the border from the spirit world to the physical. When seen, he was a creature of fire and blood; thought to tame any animal and destroy any mind.” Shelob stared meaningfully at the increasingly horrified Talion “He was known as the Elf-Hunter, for his insistent searching for an elven woman. He died confronting Sauron without any plan, seemingly insane for reasons unknown. When he died- truly died, Sauron captured his fleeing soul and bound him to the Nine where Middle-Earth would see him second only to the Witch-King in brutality.”

Talion covered his mouth, fighting against the urge to heave. Too easily could he see what Shelob prophesied happening. Already he was on the path to madness, he knew that- but to think he would have become so much worse…

His stomach rolled, and Talion hunched as he swallowed heavily, breathing quickening as his ears began to ring.

_ Not again, _ Talion despaired  _ No, no not again please no. _

There was a sharp sting to the side of Talion’s neck, and Talion felt as if his mind had slammed headlong into a wall back into reality. Gasping, Talion blinked rapidly as something warm seemed to course into his blood, chasing away a chill he hadn’t felt before and calming his heart. Almost immediately, he began to feel sluggish, yet blessedly calmed compared to the panic that had just begun to pull Talion under.

He turned his head slowly, watching as Shelob removed her nail from his flesh and flick the blood away in his peripherals. For a moment, Talion considered yelling at her for drugging him- with deadly venom no less, yet he could not find it in himself to be angry. Shelob was not a fair creature. She was a spawn of the Discord Morgoth had caused, and did not hold herself to a different race’s standards. She was efficient, and clear minded in ways Talion could no longer claim he was.

“Should I expect to soon be rotting from the inside out for that?” Talion muttered, rubbing at the punctured area, wincing as his hand slid against the tackiness of drying blood. He was glad to find there was not much that would have to be cleaned.

“I prefer my food intact, not partially digested.” Shelob shook her head “I gave you a lesser dose than before. It should keep you calm enough to properly rest without a broken bond or Ring pulling you in opposite directions. You will sleep, and when you wake you will eat. We will talk after.”

Talion frowned, finally looking down at his hand, realizing the Isildur’s Ring had been suspiciously silent during this entire time. He blinked, finding a dark ribbon wrapped around both the Ring and part of his finger. As he went to touch it, Shelob stopped him, physically halting his hand with her own “It would be in your best interest to leave it be. My silk and venom keep the spirit at bay, but it will only be for so long. It will cause you no pain for as long as you are under my care.”

“Is that what I am than, under your care?” Talion asked, cautious “You owe me nothing, and hardly concerned for my health. If you wanted to prevent the future you saw, you would just tied me in your webs and put me in a corner to be forgotten.”

Shelob hummed in agreement “I am curious in the outcome should I help you in your plight. It just might lead to your success.” a cruel smile “If you did, you must visit so that your Wraith and I might have words.”

“That’s not concerning at all.” Talion muttered flatly, forcing himself to bare Shelob’s steady stare. He took a fortifying breath “It is only your venom that keeps me stable, do you plan on keeping me drugged and compliant like one of your Thralls the entire time?”

“No. Not only is my venom incredibly potent, over time it causes its own kind of damage. I do not feel inclined to wait for you to revive should you die.” Shelob stood, her dress making no noise in the graceful movement “You will be drugged for as long as you need rest, I suggest you start now. I will leave one of my children here, you know her as she is the one who carried my message.” Shelob smiled “She happened to be the one to find you as well. She will find me when you wake.”

The aforementioned spider scurried from the shadows, up to Talion’s hand where it rested on the ground. She chittered, almost as if in greeting to the Ranger before she turned and leapt, landing on a curtain of webbing to race up to it. The shadows quickly made it difficult to see her, for the darkness was unnaturally deep in Shelob’s home, but Talion could just make out the arachnid.

Talion nodded in hesitant thanks, watching as Shelob turned and walked away. Just before Talion lost sight of her he saw a contortion in her form, large and limber with sprouting limbs.

By the time Shelob turned the corner, Talion was certain that the Spider resumed her natural form.

The man sat there for a moment, alone and surrounded by darkness. He blinked as it occurred to him that he was just given sanctuary in the most feared location in all of Mordor. No uruk or olog ever dared to venture into Shelob’s home, lest they meet a swift and painful death; the Spider actually expected him to be relaxed enough to  _ sleep _ ?

It was not quiet at least, for Talion could hear a distant rumbling that echoed through the tunnels, no doubt Shelob’s purring as she worked and tended to her brood. Her brood to, made noticeable noise. The constant chattering and sounds of many small bodies moving generated an impressive amount of rucus, though Talion knew from experience that they could be deathly silent if they so wished.

Talion frowned, muttering under his breath as he slumped into what made his bed, pulling up the furs to his shoulders. He doubted he would actually  _ sleep _ as Shelob obviously wanted, but he would make the token effort to at least try and get comfortable. She had given Talion, for a short time at least, the chance to be clear minded and have at least an idea of what was happening to him. Just one more debt Talion owed the Spider.

Talion fell asleep almost instantaneously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I am so sorry that this chapter is so late! Truth be told, I have been working on this story with a buffer chapter, and unfortunately, I am losing that buffer. The delay is caused by the _next _chapter- blame that one.__
> 
> __[2] The thing with the Soul Songs actually being Bonds was not planned. I was kinda going to leave that alone, but Shelob threw that massive curveball and closed up that plot hole nice and neat._ _
> 
> __[3] Shelob is her own warning_ _


End file.
